


Found in Translation

by jesstiel (jseca)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Tokyo (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jseca/pseuds/jesstiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like it would be his first choice of country (let's be honest, Dean's first choice would be 'keep me the fuck in the US of A, please), but Dean's on a work trip to Tokyo with absolutely no idea what he's letting himself in for.  There's neon everywhere and his goddamn toilet is talking to him.  He just wants to get in, do his job, get out.</p><p>Thing is, there's this guy he comes across.  Castiel.  He knows the ins-and-outs of this country, and Dean needs a distraction.  Becoming travel buddies is the only logical option.  It's perfect.  Thing is, neither of them realises just how they're going to end up changing each other's lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found in Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! What started as a seed of an idea months and months and months ago has grown into something that is part Lost in Translation, part my own experiences in Tokyo, but mostly Dean and Cas having a blast in a foreign country. This was fun as hell to write, and I really, really hope you enjoy it. :)
> 
> Now with INCREDIBLE ART by [ryokogirle](http://ryokogirle.tumblr.com) :D!!!!

_D: SQUID BALLS, SAMMY._

_D: thats not as dirty as it sounds_

_D: Context:_

  
  
_D: Look right up ur alley, dont they?_

Dean’s gotta admit it: he’s kinda grossed out at the prospect of eating one of these things.  There are _tentacles_ inside those batter balls, and the idea of consuming them is enough to put off any normal, hentai-appreciating guy, right?   Plus there’s all that healthy looking shit sitting on top of them that make them look, yeah, far more like something Sam would be happy to see gracing his plate.  ..Plastic bowl-boat.. thing.  Whatever. 

But Cas has been singing their praises, telling him that- 

  “ _takoyaki_ is a traditional Japanese delicacy-,”

so what can he do?  Cas is the only one here who actually has any idea what he’s doing, and Dean doesn’t _think_ he’s out to fatally poison him, so that’s a plus.

Hey, he’s heard the pufferfish stories, okay?

He owes Cas this, at the very least.  Without him, he’d probably still be stuck up in his hotel room waiting for the next call to duty, losing out to jet lag and culture shock in tandem.  He wouldn’t have had any idea that Tokyo had so much to offer, _takoyaki_ being a case in point.

The thing is, Dean isn’t much of a traveller, preferring to stick to the roads instead of taking to the skies.  Sure, he’s driven to all four corners of the USA without breaking a sweat, but in turn, that’s kept him occupied enough to never want to go overseas and risk crashing and dying horribly in a tin can in the sky.  He thinks it’s a pretty valid excuse.  Besides, America has everything he needs – booze, classic rock, his Baby, horrendously unhealthy junk food – why leave?

Well, the monetary offering had been a pretty nice carrot, for starters.  Making Sam jealous was just the icing on the cake.

(“ _\--_ it’s got such rich culture and history, the most amazing mix of traditional and modern customs and values, and it’s being offered up on a plate to someone who could _never_ appreciate that, _god_ , I can’t believe this –,”

“What, so you want a souvenir or something?”)

Not being much of a traveller, though, also means that Dean’s never really experienced another culture before, and boy, he’s been thrown straight into the deep end.  He’d been given a few talks beforehand, both from his brother and from work, but it didn’t really prepare him for what he was getting himself into.

In his first 24 hours, Dean had experienced neon, being _bowed_ to, Japanese business card culture, talking toilets, white-gloved taxi drivers, and more neon.

Seriously, the amount of neon.  Driving through Tokyo on his way to the hotel from the airport had been an experience in itself - like seeing New York on LSD.  That plus jet lag knocked him for 6, and he’s been sort of riding the wave as best he can ever since.  Hell, he barely even flinched when he pressed one of the many buttons his hotel room’s toilet had to offer and got a stream of water jettisoned straight up his butt for his troubles.

.. Okay, maybe that’s a lie.  He screamed like a little girl, but Sam will never, _ever_ find out.

“What do you think?” Cas asks, holding his chopsticks idly in his hands.  Dean blinks, looking up as he chews thoughtfully on his squid ball.  It’s an interesting question.  There are so many flavors rolling over his tongue that he’s never experienced before in his life, and his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet.

“Gimme a good cheeseburger any day,” he replies eventually, grinning.

“That’s what you’ve said about everything you’ve tried so far, Dean.”

“Yeah, but it’s true.”

Cas scoffs, reaching down and picking up another squid ball with his deft, precise chopstick handling action.  He’s tried to teach Dean, really, he has, but it just isn’t happening.  Still –

“You really shouldn’t pick them up with your fingers, Dean.  We’re already committing a cultural faux pas simply by eating and walking, you know.”

“A _faux pas?_ ” Dean makes a face before dropping the squid ball into his mouth.  “Where did they drag you from?”

“Illinois.”

“Yeah, not what I–,” Dean sighs, giving up trying to talk through his food.  Once he swallows, he rounds back to Cas’s original question.  “They’re not bad.  I’m not 100% sure what I’m eating but hey, all part of the fun, right?”

“At least you prefer this to _okonomiyaki?”_

“What’s that, the pancake thing?” Dean asks.  Cas nods in reply.  “Shit, man, I’ve never felt so goddamned betrayed.  You promised me pancakes, and what did I get? Freakin’ _cabbage._ ”

“I _did_ buy you a crepe to make up for that,” Cas reasons, dipping another squid ball into the remaining sauces swimming in the boat.  “Although I still think you should have given it more of a chance.  _Okonomiyaki_ is a beloved dish, after all.”

“Dude, you say pancake, you give pancakes, capiche?”

“..I capiche.”

As for Cas?

Lucky chance encounter.  A flash of a grin in the hotel elevator (and not a ‘hey, you’ grin either, although, well, Dean wouldn’t say no; even from a metre away his eyes made a lasting impression, but more of a ‘hey, you’re tall too!’ gesture of solidarity.  Everyone in Tokyo’s so short.) leading to a friendly conversation in the hotel bar, accompanied by the smooth jazz band playing in the background.

“Castiel?”

“That’s right.”

“Japanese name?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

“Huh.”  Dean takes a swig of his Suntory whiskey.  “Doesn’t sound all that American, either.  I mean, ‘Novak’, sure, but -,”

“It’s angelic,” Castiel states, so matter-of-fact that Dean nearly does a spit take.  Not that he would ever waste good whiskey on something like that.

“That so?” he asks weakly.

“In its etymology,” Castiel clarifies. 

“Uh huh.  Yup.” Of course Dean didn’t momentarily believe – nah.  He side-eyes his whiskey.  He’s only had one, right?  “Well, I’m Dean.  Dean Winchester.”  He holds out his hand to chase that weird moment away, appreciating the firm grip he receives in return.  “What brings you here, Castiel?”

Castiel glances over to the other side of the room.  “I’m with my sister, Anna.  She’s a photographer.”

“That so?” Dean raises an inquisitive eyebrow.

“She invited me to join her in her travels, but so far she’s been so busy that I’ve not done more than sit in my hotel room.”  Castiel pauses as the bartender comes back their way.  “ _Mou ippai, kudasai,”_ he says to him, holding up a finger and motioning to his glass.  Dean folds his arms across the bar, grinning.

“You _sure_ that’s not a Japanese name?”

“Wha – oh.  No, I taught myself a little bit of the language before I came.”

“But you’re stuck in your hotel room instead of getting out there and using it?”

“I.. yes.” Castiel looks a little put out, at that.  “Tokyo is.. it’s big.”  He sounds defeated as he says it.

“Big and scary?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, it’s what you _implied_ ,” Dean returns, a shit-eating grin on his face as he downs the rest of his whiskey.  Castiel all but _pouts_ in return.  “C’mon, tell me, what do you wanna go do out there?  I know shit all about Tokyo, might do me some good to hear it.”

“Well – _doumo,”_ he interjects as the bartender hands Castiel his new drink.  “I’m interested in seeing _Meiji Jingu_ in _Harajuku_ to experience _Shinto_ , and I would like to try out traditional Japanese dishes like _onabe_ and _okonomiyaki_ -,”

“Woah, Cas, reign it in there, man.  I got maybe half of that?”  Dean laughs to himself.  “The best I can do is ‘kohnicheewah’.”

“ _Konnichiwa?_ ” Cas replies, outshining Dean’s frankly crappy attempt at a Japanese accent by a mile.

“Yeah.  That.” Dean grins.  “Well, tell you what, Cas.  You seem to know your stuff, and I need a tour guide.  Howsabout we join forces?”

“Dean, I – I barely know the first thing about navigating aroun -,”

“Eh, we’ll figure it out,” Dean replies, waving his hand absently.  “You do the talking, I’ll do the navigating.” Or something.  It’s not like he hasn’t got guides assigned to him to take him ‘round the Best of Tokyo whilst he’s here, but honestly, Cas seems like he’d be a far better travel buddy, and comes without the ‘corporate bullshit’ baggage to boot.  So what if he has to use a little stealth avoidance here or there?  “Beats sitting in a hotel room all day, right?”

“I suppose,” Cas muses, glancing over his shoulder to a table where a small group of foreigners are sitting.  His sister must be over there, Dean reasons.  “I had no other plans for tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Dean claps Cas on the shoulder amicably.  “Pick a place, we’ll go there tomorrow morning.  Trust me Cas, this’ll be a cinch.”

0o0o0o0o

_D: Sammy, I may have underestimated this country._

“Please tell me you can read all that,” Dean says weakly, running his eyes back and forth over the ticket machines and what he assumes is the train map above them.  It’s, without a doubt, one of the most unnecessarily complicated things he’s ever laid his eyes on.  He glances over to Cas, and isn’t particularly heartened to see that he’s looking mildly horrified; like he’s regretting ever speaking to Dean and venturing out into the world with him on this ill-advised adventure.

Not a good start, considering they’ve barely even made it out of their hotel.

“No,” Cas says simply.

“Shit.” Dean rakes a hand through his hair – and then a little faster when he realises that the two of them are starting to get some strange looks from other commuters.  They do sort of stand out.  “Okay, let’s do this.”  He claps his hands together and makes towards a recently vacated machine.

What he’s confronted with is a range of boxes containing various different numbers.  There’s no explanation as to what, exactly, these numbers are for – no ‘I’m A Dumb Tourist And I Need Guidance’ button.  But that doesn’t stop Dean from staring intently at the screen for at least thirty seconds, trying to mentally force the boxes to reveal their secrets to him.

“I think we need to rethink our strategy some,” he declares eventually, a little put out.  Time for Plan B.  He looks round their immediate surroundings, and happens to spot just what he’s looking for: a sharply dressed guy in uniform.  “Wanna use that skill o’ yours?” He motions towards the station attendant.

“Uh.” Cas follows Dean’s gaze, and swallows nervously.  “You want me to.  Talk.  To him?”

“Yeah, dude.  What, you think I meant sign language?”

“No, I just – how did you know I can speak sign language?”

“You can?”

“Yes, although I don’t think that will prove useful here-,”

“Yeah, no, this whole situation’s confused enough as is.”  Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand, though he stores this newfound information for later.  “C’mon, it’ll be fine, I heard you yesterday,” he grins, pressing a hand to Cas’s back to push him along.

“Dean, I don’t think – uh.” Cas halts mid-sentence when he realises he’s now face to face with the employee, who only stares up at them quizzically.  Cas straightens, nodding politely at him.

“ _Sumimasen.  Harajuku ni ikitai desukedo,”_ he manages, propelled by the circumstantial necessity to _not_ publicly embarrass himself, and motions to the train map.  Thankfully, whatever he says seems to work, as the two engage in a quick conversation that leads to the employee as good as buying their tickets for them, walking Cas through the purchase process in broken down Japanese. 

“Nice work, compadre.” Dean nudges Cas with his elbow as their saviour walks away. “What would I do without you, huh?”

“I met you less than 24 hours ago,” Cas reasons, tilting his head gently in confusion. Dean raises his eyebrows, but he laughs.  Something about the way this guy talks is just –

“Yeah.  Yeah, you got that right.  Man.”  He glances down at his newly procured ticket.  “So, where to?”

“We’re heading for the Yamanote line.  It’s coded green.”  Cas glances past the ticket barriers to the sea of people passing through the station.  He looks mildly ill at the sight of it, but with an air of resignation in the ‘I’ve come this far, no turning back now’ vein.

“You okay, buddy?” Cas hasn’t moved for at least a minute, and he starts at Dean’s question.

“… Did you know Shinjuku station is one of the busiest train stations on Earth?” he replies cryptically, still staring out into the crowds.

“I barely even know where we are, dude,” Dean says amicably, pushing his shoulder gently.  “C’mon, let’s go.”

They make it onto a train, because really, they’re grown adults, this shouldn’t be a challenge.  Not that he has much basis for comparison, preferring to journey round the US in his trusted Impala than any sort of public transport, but it seems fairly normal.  The hanging advertisements running down the length of the carriage are something different, and they entertain him for a short while, but it doesn’t take long before he admits defeat to the lines and squiggles that are his interpretation of the Japanese writing system.  There’s one about chocolate, maybe, if the photo’s anything to go by?  But after a few minutes he’s drawn to the LED screen placed above the train doors, where there’s a Mario themed animation playing.

Their third victory of the day is getting off at the right stop – ‘Harajuku’, Cas tells him.  Dean has literally no idea what to expect; before he came here, the only knowledge he had of Japan was from the few anime he’d watched in the past, and all the ‘ninja samurai’ stereotypes fed to him through American media.  So far he hasn’t seen either, but he’s holding out.

“From what I’ve read, Harajuku is an interesting blend of modern and traditional,” Cas starts to explain out of nowhere as they step off the train onto the unassuming platform, as if he read Dean’s mind.  “Takeshita Street is a bustling, colorful hub for those enamored with fashion and the ‘kawaii’ culture -,”

“Come again?”

“Cute’ culture,” Cas explains.  “It’s a surprisingly large facet of the Japanese lifestyle.”

“Huh.  Would that explain the –,” he breaks off, pointing in the direction of a speaker as it starts to play a short, cheerful melody that tells passengers to get the hell on before the train doors close.  “That?”  So far, there’s been one at every station.  Cas’s mouth turns up in the ghost of a smile.

“Maybe so.”

It would be pretty difficult to miss Takeshita Street since as soon as they step out of Harajuku station, it’s right there opposite them; a flurry of colorfully labelled shops and restaurants that line either side of the jam-packed street.   Dean doesn’t think he’s seen this many humans in one place since – well, since Shinjuku station, come to think of it.

 “So, we headed down that-a-way, Cas?” Dean asks, motioning towards the swarm of human activity before them without the most believable enthusiasm.

“Thankfully, no, unless you have any interest in browsing the latest in Lolita and punk youth fashion.”

“Yeah, no.”  Dean takes a moment to look back down the street, surveying the options.  “I could absolutely take a McDonalds, though.”

“We’re in the heart of Japan, and yet you want to eat American fast food?” Castiel asks, sounding a little offended.  “Besides, it’s barely even 10am.  Maybe we can think about food after we’ve been to the shrine.”

Any retort Dean might have had to defend his right to eat fast food whenever the fuck he wants dies on his tongue at that.  “Shrine?”

It’s like a whole other world.

Really, it’s hard to believe that this is even in the same vicinity as Takeshita Street.  Stepping under the gigantic wooden archway that signifies the start of the trail toward what Dean now knows is Meiji Shrine almost feels like stepping into a portal; suddenly they’re surrounded by trees and greenery on all sides, which double as a sound barrier to the outside world.  Dean has to admit, it wasn’t exactly what he was expecting.  He doesn’t take much stock in all that religious stuff, but hey, he can appreciate a good bit of scenery as much as the next guy.

“I suppose this isn’t what you were expecting when you invited me along with you,” Cas muses as they walk.  Dean scoffs.  Again with the mind reading.

“You caught on to that, huh?”

“It didn’t take me long.  Did you have any particular destination in mind?”

“Honestly?  Not really.  I know nada about Japan, ‘sides from what you’d expect.  Sushi, ninjas, the works.”

“Well, I hope this will be an educational experience for you, then,” Cas says, in a tone that Dean honestly can’t decide is mocking or sincere.  “But if nothing else, it’s a tick on the tourist checklist for Tokyo.”

“A real one, or..?”

“Well, no, but we can make it real, if you think that would help us set our goals more easily.”  Cas quietens for a second, contemplative.  “Also, it might help if I knew more about you.  What sort of hobbies and interests you have.  A guideline, of sorts.  It’ll help narrow our options down.”

“I guess that means I haven’t scared you off then, huh?” Dean asks, winking playfully.

“It’s early days,” Cas deadpans.

“Oof.  Burn.  Well, for starters, this whole shrine deal is something my brother Sam would be way more into.  But, on the other hand, this means I get gloating rights, so I ain’t complaining.”

“Oh, you have a brother?”

“That’s right.  Sammy’s my younger brother.  Hulking yeti of a guy, but he’s got a good heart.  He’s training to be a lawyer right now.”

“You seem very proud of him.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Dean grins, looking over to Cas.  “I worked hard to help that kid through college.  Even if I had nothing else, I got that.”

“He’s lucky to have such a supportive older brother as you,” Cas says, smiling up at Dean.

“Nah, man, I just did what I had to.” He pauses.  “You said you’re here with your sister, right?”

“That’s right.  Anna.”  Cas sighs.  “Her intentions were good, in inviting me with her to Japan, but her job monopolises a great deal of her time.  I don’t think she realised just how busy she was going to be once she got here.”

“How long have you been here, anyway?”

“Just over half a week, now.”

“Huh.  And you didn’t venture out once?”

“I – no.”  Cas says, sounding strained.  It’s obvious he doesn’t particularly want to elaborate.  “I’ve spent a lot of my time reading about Tokyo, rather than… actually experiencing it.”

“That’s how you know so much about it?”

“That, and a great deal of Wikipedia browsing before I left.”

The shrine standing proud at the end of the trail is both vast and peaceful, its large open spaces practically clear of human activity, at least in comparison to the rest of the Tokyo that Dean’s seen so far.  The only noises are the wind skimming through the trees and the wildlife inhabiting them.  You would hardly have any idea that there’s a crowded, bustling city just a few minutes away.  Sure, it’s not his usual fare, but damn if there isn’t something pleasingly ethereal in the atmosphere.  It’s definitely done a number on Cas – he’s gone very quiet, breaking away from Dean to wander around and take in the open space more intimately, so he takes the opportunity to shoot Sam a quick message.  
  
  
  
_D:_ _bet you didnt think i’d ever make to one of these_

There are a few things that catch Dean’s eye, but he decides to head over to the large tree to his right, where wooden blocks are hung in their hundreds.  According to the large sign placed at eye level, the blocks, or _ema,_ all have ‘personal prayers and gratitude’ written on them.  He absently sticks his hands in his pockets as his gaze wanders over them all.  A majority of the messages are written in Japanese, and some are drawings, but he easily finds the occasional English messages dotted in amongst them.  Unsurprising, considering this place probably has Tourist Trap status.  Their sentiments range from messages of love and gratitude to hopes for the future; all very touchy-feely sentimental crap.  Still, reading them all Dean can’t help but get caught up in the atmosphere and let his mind wander, contemplating what _he_ might write on one of those wooden _ema_ blocks, if he were so inclined.

_I hope Lisa and Ben keep it up.  I’m sorry for leaving, but they understand it’s for the best.. I think.  I hope Sammy becomes the best damn lawyer in the USA.  I hope I –_

“It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”  Cas’s voice snaps him out of his reverie, and he looks over to see his companion has re-joined him.  “So many people’s hopes and dreams gathered together in one place.”  He quietens as he pores over the wide variety of _ema_ almost reverently.  Even from that small gesture, Dean gets the impression that Cas really _cares_ – probably truly hopes that these people’s wishes and prayers will come true, no matter how small.  He almost feels guilty for brushing them off as some tourist gimmick, at that. 

“You gonna write one?” Dean asks.  Cas looks back round, tilting his head in question.

“Are you?”

Dean smiles easily, shrugging in his earnest, ‘you got me there’ way.  Cas nods thoughtfully before turning back to study more _ema._

He lets Cas be for the moment, instead heading over to the small gift shop he had seen on his way into the main shrine square.  Mostly what it sells are little charms in the form of tiny pouches containing what he assumes are amulets or something; the English subheadings tell him that they range from ‘charms for traffic safety’ to ‘charms for opening your luck’, whatever _that_ means.  They’re not exactly cheap for little pouches that, in all likelihood, do shit all for anybody, but he still picks up a ‘charm for victory’ and buys it as his first souvenir for Sam, ‘cuz he knows he’ll lap that crap up.

“I don’t know if you were serious about McDonalds -,”

“ _Jesus_ fuckin-,” Dean nearly jumps out of his skin as Cas appears from abso-fucking-lutely nowhere behind him, nearly dropping his newly-purchased charm in the process. “Warn a guy, _fuck.”_

“My apologies,” Cas says, like he has no idea what he’s supposed to be apologising for.  “I just thought I should tell you that I have a place in mind for lunch, unless you truly want your Big Mac.”

“Guess it depends what it is you had in mind,” Dean replies, only half-joking.  He’s had burgers on the brain ever since he saw the McDonalds lurking at the entrance to Takeshita Street.  … Not that that’s a change from his normal state of mind in any conceivable way, but –

“It’s pancakes,” Cas says, and Dean’s hooked.  “Of a sort.”

“Cas, man, you had me at ‘pancakes’.”

It’s Dean’s first proper Japanese restaurant experience, and already there’re a hundred things he could point out that differ to those in America.  They’re sitting on cushions on the floor, for one thing.  There’s a button set up at every table to call their waiter over whenever they need to, which is pretty fucking ingenious if you ask him, and strangest of all, a large portion of their table is taken up by a metal hotplate.  The entire restaurant is filled with the sound of food sizzling as it cooks on them, accompanied by conversation and the occasional beeping as a waiter is called over to a table via The Buttons.  Dean’s mouth is already watering; he’s been looking forward to his fluffy pancakes loaded up with maple syrup and bacon the whole walk down.

“You seem very passionate about your food,” Cas observes.  “… Of a particular sort,” he amends, after a second.

“I was born and bred on the best of America, my friend.  It don’t get much better than that.”  Dean grins.  “Gimme greasy burgers, beer and pie the rest of my life, I’d be set.  ‘Course, Sam doesn’t agree with me.  He’s more about the rabbit food and smoothies,” Dean adds, grimacing a little at the thought.  At that, Cas seems to look a little… worried..? But before Dean can question it, their waitress appears with his beer and Cas’s aloe vera drink.

“Aloe vera, seriously?” Dean asks incredulously for the second time since Cas ordered it, eyeing it suspiciously as it’s placed down on the table. 

“It’s healthy,” is all Cas has to say to that.  Any retort Dean might have had dies on his tongue as their waitress cuts in.

“ _Okonomiyaki_ , first time?” she asks in broken English.  Cas nods up at her.

“ _Sou desune_.  Please, serve us your most popular option.”

“ _Hai,_ okay.  Please wait a moment.”

Dean frowns over at Cas as their waitress first switches on their hot plate, then bows and walks away.  “Oko – what now?”

“It’s the Japanese word for this particular style of pancake.  _Okonomiyaki_ ,” Cas repeats, slowing the word down to help Dean catch all the syllables.  Frowning, Dean picks up the laminated menu sitting to the side of their table for the first time.  Slowly, his frown intensifies.

“Cas,” he says, trying for measuredly.  “What are these?”  From the photos, they look nothing like the pancakes he knows and loves, but the Japanese text leaves him pretty much in the dark as to what they actually are.

“I did say ‘of a sort’ -,” Cas starts, trying to defend himself, when their waitress returns holding two bowls.

“I will show you preparation method, okay?” she says, before gently dunking the contents of the first bowl onto the hotplate.  From what Dean can tell, it’s definitely pancake batter, but there’s what looks like cabbage – and a whole friggin’ _lot_ of it - mixed in.  An eyebrow raises sky high, unbeknownst to their waitress, who’s in the process of picking up two metal spatulas and manipulating the batter until it’s rounded into a perfect circle. 

Dean takes a particularly large swig of beer.  Cas watches on silently.

There’s no denying that it smells pretty damn awesome, though, and he’s further assuaged when she places strips of bacon on top of the cooking batter, followed by shrimp.  So at least that’s one outta three.  He doubts there’s gonna be any maple syrup, though.  

Their waitress starts on a second _okonomiyaki_ fairly quickly, manipulating and cooking them both perfectly into shape.  Glancing around the restaurant, Dean realises that some of the customers are preparing their own food, and he’s immediately grateful that the waitress stepped in.  He doubts he and Cas would have the first idea how to go about doing this.  There’s probably some ritual that’s been handed down from generation to generation, where fucking up even one sacred step could lead to them being thrown out.  Or something.  Maybe. 

Or maybe Dean’s just watched too much anime.

Once the _okonomiyaki_ are fully cooked, their waitress slathers them with a brown sauce, which Dean imagines won’t taste a thing like he expects. 

“Mayonnaise?” she asks the both of them, holding up a tube full of it.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Dean replies, whilst Cas goes for a simple “ _onegaishimasu.”_

Finally, she offers them what she explains are seaweed flakes, and Dean’s so far gone that he accepts without even blinking.  If he’s gonna do this, he might as well do it right, damnit.

The finished product smells _amazing_ , but he’s not gonna lie, it confuses his visual senses, so he has no idea what it’s gonna do to his taste buds.

“So.  Pancakes,” Dean says, flashing a grin at Cas.

“It’s the closest thing we have,” Cas replies, taking the pair of chopsticks lying by his plate and deftly picking up a slice of _okonomiyaki_ from the hot plate once he’s broken them into two.  “I apologise, I should have explained more fully.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, man.  You wanted to try out this stuff, right?  And I’m game for anything.  Generally.”

Before he digs in, he sends another photo to Sam.

_D: apparently these are pancakes.  desecrated with cabbage, but there’s bacon in there too, so cant be all bad_

 

He picks up his chopsticks, and takes a moment to study how Cas is holding his.  He’s used chopsticks before, from the many Chinese take-outs he’s enjoyed over the years, but it’s been a while.  Finally, he manages to grab a section of _okonomiyaki_ and guide it to his mouth.

It’s - -

Crunchy.

An assault on the senses.

Definitely _not_ what he had anticipated.

But it’s not _bad_.  The more he eats, the more he adjusts to the smoky sweetness of the brown sauce combined with mayonnaise combined with seaweed – is that cheese? -  cabbage, bacon –

“If culture shock were an expression, it would be your current one,” Cas quips, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Just when y’think you’ve tasted all the world has to offer,” Dean offers as an explanation.  “I’m still not on board with the cabbage thing, but I can push through.”  He pauses.  “Is it everything you dreamed?”

“It’s delicious.  There are so many flavors, but they’ve been chosen carefully and complement each other perfectly.”

“Wow, didn’t know I had a food critic on my hands,” Dean quips, before taking another bite.

“You asked.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean tries for a retort, but instead gives up halfway to focus on eating.  A few quiet minutes pass where they’re both absorbed in the task, but it’s Cas who eventually breaks the silence.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” Cas asks. 

“Err, which one, buddy?”

“The… ‘tourist checklist’,” Cas replies, even going as far as throwing up apostrophe signs with his fingers.

“Oh, right.”  Dean downs the remainder of his beer in between mouthfuls to allow for some thinking time.  “Well, I’m easy, Cas,” is what he unhelpfully decides on.  Cas lets out a sigh.

“You say that, but both things I’ve chosen to do so far haven’t been ‘up your alley’, so to speak,” he retorts, not forgetting the fingers.

“Well, when you put it that way..” He shrugs.  “I’m a man of classic tastes, Cas.  Booze, rock, women.”

“And pie?”

“You got it.”

“That doesn’t really help me out.”

“Well help _me_ out, dude, lay some of your knowledge down on me, c’mon.”

“Umm.”

“Y’know.  What do the Japanese do to fill up their free time?”

“Well, many would choose to go out drinking at an _izakaya_ , which I suppose could be most closely compared to our bars.  Or alternatively, karaoke is a much loved pastime in this country.  Although I can’t claim to have a very good singing voice.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Dean grins. 

“There are the popular tourist locations such as Tokyo Tower, or the _Kaminarimon._ Or entire prefectures, like Shibuya or Akihabara..,” Cas tails off as he glances up at Dean and sees his blank expression.  “Apologies, I suppose none of this means much to you.”

“Hey, you’re learnin’.” Dean quips.  “Look, seriously, just take me wherever.  If something catches my eye, you’ll know.  But I gotta say, a bar doesn’t sound half bad.”

Cas nods, looking relieved.  “Then that can be our destination for the evening.”

In the end, Dean gets through his _okonomiyaki_ , because that’s how he was raised, but it takes another two glasses of beer to distract him from the greenery he’s consuming.  Cas only looks on amusedly, his own food done with.

“I’m proud of you, Dean,” he chastises with a glint in his eye.

“Shaddup.  I came, I saw, I ate your stupid pancake.  I win at Japan.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Hey, I don’t back down from a challenge.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Cas replies, looking almost as if he might be about to break into a smirk.  Hell, Dean didn’t know the guy had it in him. 

Just as he’s about to reply with what’s sure to be another amazingly witty retort, his phone starts sounding off in his pocket, pervading the otherwise chilled out atmosphere with a nice bit of Led Zep.  When he checks, it’s Sam’s name flashing up on the screen, so he grabs a few thousand yen and puts them down on the table.

“Hey, can you pay?  I gotta take this, it’s Sam.  I’ll meet you outside.”

“I suppose -,”

“Great, thanks,” Dean says as he stands up, winking amicably at Cas before picking up the call.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says, as he walks out into the open.

“Hey, Dean.  How’s it going?  I get the impression you’ve been knee deep in work,” Sam jokes.

“Ah, you’re just jealous,” Dean grins, leaning back against the nearest wall.  “Who needs work when you’ve got cabbage pancakes?”

“Those actually looked really good,” Sam says.  “But they aren’t what I expected from you.”

“They’re sacrilegious, Sammy.  An insult to the Pancake God.  I mean, if I didn’t know that’s what they were supposed to be, I wouldn’t have so much of a problem.  They actually tasted pretty great.  But nah, wasn’t my choice - I’ve picked up a travel companion.  He knows his stuff, I’ll give him that, but he’s more like you than me.”

“Picked up, huh?”

“Bad choice of words.  You know what I mean,” Dean huffs, rubbing a hand over his face.  “HHopefully I can get some steak over here, anyway.” he says, quickly deflecting.  “I _did_ see a McDonalds earlier, though, so there is _some_ hope for this place.”

“Dean, seriously?  McDonalds?”

“Cas had the same reaction,” Dean grins.  “Look, what can I say?  I’m all about the home comforts.”

“Cas, huh?  This would be the travel companion?”  Sam drops the McDonalds fiasco, passing it off as his brother being petulant as normal.  “What’s his story?”

“Sister brought him over with her, but she’s too busy for him, so he’s tagging along with me.  Oh, and get this – Cas is short for ‘Castiel’.”

“No kidding?”

“Hippie parents or _what_.”

“Huh.  Well, I’m glad you’re making new friends and experiencing the culture already.  Even though I’m sure it’s all going over your head.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you wish you were here instead of me, I get it, jeez.”  Dean makes a show of it, but really, he does get it.  He wouldn’t be sending so many photos otherwise.

“Yeah, well.  I’ll go with Jess one day, I’m sure.  Oh, speaking of people who are in Japan that aren’t me -  did you know Charlie’s living there at the moment?”

“Seriously?  I wondered why she’d disappeared off the radar!”

“Yeah, dude, she’s staying out near Ikebukuro.”

“Which is…”

“Not too far from Shinjuku.” After a few seconds of silence, Sam rolls his eyes and clarifies: “You know, where your hotel is.”

“Oh!  Oh, yeah.  I knew that.”

“Sure you did.  But anyway, I messaged her and told her you’re gonna be there for a couple’a weeks, so keep an eye out for a message.”

“Sure thing.  S’been way too long,” Dean replies wistfully.  Charlie’s like the younger sister the Winchester brothers never had, and one of the only people Dean feels 100% comfortable unashamedly nerding out with. They’ve even gone to a few LARP sessions together in the past - turns out Dean’s a natural, playing second fiddle to Charlie’s Queen in the realm of Moondoor.

“Uh, hey, Sam?” he asks after a few seconds of silence, changing track.

“Yeah?”

“You, ah, happened to see Lisa around at all?”

Sam sighs gently down the line, and Dean can practically visualise the ‘sad puppy’ expression he’s gonna have put on to accompany it with.

“No, Dean, I haven’t.  Sorry.  But, you know, you can’t go around feeling guilty-,”

“Did I say I wanted a whole sappy conversation about it?” Dean all but snaps.

“Woah, dude, sorry, just.. trying to give some friendly advice.”

“Yeah, well.  I was just wondering, is all.”

“Uh huh.” 

“Don’t ‘uh huh’ me,” Dean retorts.  “You and your stupid...” Cas has reappeared in Dean’s line of vision, and he’s giving him this squinty eyed, head tilt expression that Dean supposes is meant to convey confusion.  “..stupid face,” he finishes lamely, avoiding Cas’s line of sight.

“Uh _huh.”_ Sam sounds more amused than put out.

“Just… let me know if you hear anything,” Dean finishes, trying hard not to sound too emotionally invested.

“I will, dude.  Anyway, I better get back to studying.  Keep me updated.”

“Sure thing.”

“You completely overestimated the value of yen,” is the first thing Cas says once Dean’s hung up, handing over three thousand yen’s worth of notes back to him.  “How is your brother?”  Dean shrugs airily as he re-pockets his money.

“Insanely jealous of his big brother, of course.  Oh, but he told me one of my friends is staying in Tokyo right now.”

“Are you going to see them?”

“Probably.  Waitin’ on a message from her, for now,” Dean explains as he pockets his phone.  “Anyway, where to next?”

They spend the next few hours wandering through Harajuku, stopping into a few shops here and there (“Condomania?! Cas, we gotta -,”).  Occasionally, they spot girls dressed to the nines in what look like pastel coloured French maid outfits, complete with a heavy layer of intricate make-up, extremely high heels and elaborately coloured and styled wigs that stand out like a beacon in amongst the more common black and brown hair colors the Japanese generally sport. 

“You got any intel on that?” Dean asks, motioning not-so-subtly towards a group of dressed up girls passing by, one who stands out in particular thanks to the gigantic plastic doughnut resting on top of her pastel pink wig.  He’s honestly not sure if he’s horrified or impressed.

“It’s Lolita fashion,” Cas explains, frowning up at Dean.  “I mentioned it before.”

“Oh.  _That’s_ what you meant?  I just thought you meant the book.”  He looks on, swaying a little more towards ‘impressed’ as he takes it all in.  “You do you, I guess.”

After a while of traipsing through Harajuku, though, despite the fact that he doesn’t feel like he stands out _nearly_ as much as Pink-Doughnut-Wig, Dean gets the impression that he’s constantly being watched; like an itch on the back of his neck.  At first he brushes it off; hell, it’s not like he isn’t used to the odd stare now and again, given the winning genetic lottery ticket he’s been dealt, but this is different.   It gradually becomes so incessant that he has to mention it to Cas.

“So, err, call me crazy, Cas, but do you get the impression that we’re being watched?”

“You’re not crazy,” Cas assures him, almost too quickly.  “We’re _gaijin_.  We’re bound to attract attention – particularly a tall, light haired white man like yourself.”

“Wow, I think that’s one of the least flattering descriptions anyone’s given of me, _ever._ ”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Also, back up, what did you call us? Gai..”

“ _Gaijin,_ ” Cas repeats.  “Or ‘foreigner’.”

“ _Gaijin..”_ Dean repeats contemplatively, in a fairly atrocious imitation of Cas’s version of a Japanese accent.  “I mean… yeah.  Obviously.  So what?”

“Well, it’s getting better nowadays, but you may have noticed that we’re in the minority here.  Foreigners still aren’t given the warmest of welcomes to this country, to the point where anything outside of what the Japanese consider ‘normal’, for example blonde hair, can still be stigmatised.”

“That why you didn’t wanna go outside?” Dean asks, not really considering tact before he opens his mouth.

“Uhh, it was.. a factor..” Cas replies hesitantly, like he’s admitting some dark secret. 

“Ah well, you know what they say, safety in numbers n’ all that crap,” Dean says, clapping Cas on the shoulder to try make up for his big mouth.  “Let ‘em stare all they wanna!”

It turns out, though, that the staring gets worse on trains.

Halfway through the journey back to Shinjuku, Dean realises that whenever he turns his head, at least half a dozen people turn theirs _away_ from him.  Every single time.

“Christ, I feel like I’m in a freak show,” he says to Cas, who’s absently staring up at the screen.  “You seem to be dealing well enough.”

“I’m just ignoring it,” Cas replies, shrugging lightly.

“What you can’t see can’t harm you, huh?”

“Something like that, yes.”  Cas breaks away from the screen to look over at Dean.  “Does it really affect you that much?”

“It just… it’s like weird deja vu,” Dean replies, rubbing a hand up his arm like he’s felt a cold chill in the air.

Of course, getting drunk takes his mind off it.  (It also takes his mind off the gradually growing number of missed calls he’s received in the past few hours, but that’s a Future Dean problem.)

The bar, or _izakaya_ , as Cas had called it, is about as ‘bar-like’ as the _okonomiyaki_ had been ‘pancake-like’, save for the pervasive smoke smell clinging onto every surface.  There’s no actual bar, for one thing, plus there’s a sacrilegious complete lack of pool table anywhere.  Instead, they’re in a low lit building with a bunch of tables set up, each with their own menu in the form of an interactive screen.  The emphasis seems to be on eating, and eating as much as you can.  The air is filled with the sizzling of food on the grill and a glorious amalgamation of scents to go with it.

“It’s also ‘all you can drink’,” Cas comments, looking up from the translator on his phone.  Dean falls a little bit more in love with Tokyo, at that.

As it turns out, thanks to the virtual menu there’s hardly any human interaction needed to order what you want – just tap it all in, and the waiter appears a few minutes later with your food.  There’s an English menu built in to the system, but even without, most of the food items have photos by them to give them a basic idea of what they’re getting.  Still, when Dean nearly orders ‘chicken knees’ due to a misinterpretation of the given photo, he’s grateful for the translation. 

They go small first, not really sure how big the portions are going to be.  Cas starts with a bowl of edamame pods (Dean makes a face), Dean with some chicken wings.  After that, within the hour their table is covered with portions of food perfectly sized for sharing, some more traditionally Japanese and some with a decidedly more Western influence.  Gyoza, fried chicken, chicken skewers (Dean gave up thinking about which part of the chicken he was eating pretty early on), croquets, a whole jug-full of fries, fried rice, grilled fish… it’s safe to say that Dean’s enjoying himself more here than he was at the okonomiyaki place earlier.

The never-ending beer definitely helps.

“I tell ya what,” Dean says as he’s finishing off his second plate of chicken wings, “I betcha my ‘handlers’ would never’ve taken me somewhere like this.   Nah, they’d wanna take me to all the fancy-pants establishments, where one piece of beef is like $100.”  Dean looks straight up at Cas, turning serious.  “Do I look like the kinda guy who would wanna spend $100 on beef, Cas?”

“Well-,”

“What’s so different about it to good ol’ rustic, affordable cow meat, I ask ya?  No, no, wait, I know this – they fucking _massage_ the cows or some shit, right?”

“That’s actually no–,”

“Nah, Cas, don’t ruin this for me.  It’s too good,” Dean says, laughing into his beer as he speaks.  “ _Massaging…”_

He may have had a few, by this point.

“ _Anyway,_ my point was, look at all this shit!  And we probably ain’t even broke _fifty_ yet.  Man.”

“I had a feeling you would appreciate it,” Cas says, smiling a little. 

“Shit, we’ve barely even got through a quarter of the menu.  I could do this every day.”  Dean pauses, happily gazing at the spread of food covering their table for a moment before snapping back up.  “Hey, so, sign language, huh?”

“Uhh,” Cas says, rightfully confused at the sudden subject change.

“Well, y’know, if you’re gonna be my travel buddy – and you have passed the test – I should know more about you, right?”

“There was a test?”

“There – I.” Dean has to resist putting his head in his hands.  “Yes.  And you passed.  A Grade.  Well done.”

“Oh.  Should I have had one ready for you, too?”

“Cas, seriously, I.. if you want,” he finishes weakly.  Cas looks like he’s actually taking that into account when he nods thoughtfully, before, hallelujah, getting back round to the conversation Dean had been trying to start in the first place.

“Languages are a hobby of mine.  Sign language is just one of many I’ve attempted to learn over the years.”

“No kidding?  What others have you got under your belt?”

“Well, apart from the small amount of Japanese I was able to learn before I arrived here, I’ve studied Arabic, French, German, Russian, Spanish - ,”

“Woah, Cas, dude, leave some for the rest of us!” Cas – is he _blushing?!_

“As I said.. it’s a hobby.  I wouldn’t necessarily call myself ‘fluent’ in any of those, but I could get by.”  Cas pauses.  “Surely you have hobbies, too?”

“No, no, wait, you gotta say something in another language.”

“I do?”

“It’s like.. a thing.”

“ _Tu m'as entendu parler Japonais plein de fois_ ,” Cas says.  Even though Dean can’t understand a word of it, it _sounds_ like perfect French.  Cas absently downs the rest of his drink once he’s spoken like it ain’t no thing.  Dean grins.

“ _Awesome.”_

“You don’t speak any other languages yourself?”

“Nah, man, Sam’s the one with the book-smarts.  I got the practical skills,” he replies.  “I’m all about engineering, car repair, that sorta stuff.”

“You see, to me, that sounds just as incredible.  I wouldn’t have the first idea where to start, for example, if my car back home was to break down.”

“Nah, man, it’s -,” Dean pauses.  “Well, no, it’s pretty awesome, actually.  Being able to take something that’s been crushed to the brink and mould it back into shape?  It’s a pretty good feeling.”

“Is that your job?” Cas asks, and Dean sighs. 

“Nah.  Wish it was.”  He scoffs.  “Y’think I’d get an all-expenses paid trip across the world if that’s what I did?”  Their waiter appears to deliver their next round of drinks, and Dean gladly accepts it, taking a large gulp before carrying on.  “Actually, I’m kinda surprised you never recognised me.”

“… Should I?” Cas asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Uuh, I guess it depends how often you get out.  I’ve been in some pretty big campaigns.”

Cas still looks confused, emphasised by the head tilt Dean’s already starting to recognise as a Castiel Patented Trait.

“Ah, man.  I model.”

“Oh!  Well that’s a respectable job, too.”

“Eh.”  Dean shrugs, shoving an entire handful of fries into his mouth with a complete lack of grace to try and distract himself from how uncomfortable he’s getting.  “It’s, y’know.  It’s kept the money coming in.”

“Ah, so when you mentioned helping Sam through college-,”

“Yeah, that definitely didn’t hurt.  His scholarships helped too, o’course.”

“I feel a little guilty for not recognising you, now,” Cas admits, picking up a chicken skewer with far more poise than his eating companion and his fries.

“Nah, man,” Dean says, waving a hand at Cas.  “I’m glad.  Really.  It gets boring, people comin’ up to you in the street all like, ‘hey, weren’t you in that one thing?!’, or ‘can I get a photo with you, oh my god’.”  He rolls his eyes.  “I mean, it was pretty cool at first, but it gets _old_.  I never wanted that sort of life, y’know?  I just wanted to stay in the background, work on some cars...”

“I understand.  Being in the spotlight can be very daunting.”

“Oh, you been there, huh?” Dean asks, inquisitive.

“It was a whirlwind of local fame, I suppose.  I wrote a novel that got some attention, became a well-known face for a few months.. but even that was exhausting.”

“Heh.  I’ll drink to that,” Dean says, raising his glass to the air.  After a second of hesitation, Cas’s comes up to knock it with a soft _clink._

“So, writing, then?”

“If that’s what you want to call it.  I still have a cash-flow coming in from the novel, so I freelance every now and again to keep myself occupied.”  He pauses, contemplative.  “Maybe I’ll write a travel journal about my experiences in Japan.”

“Sounds like a plan, bud,” Dean grins.

They make it out of the _izakaya_ around midnight, and end up having to use Google Maps to get them back to the Park Hyatt, since they have no idea where the fuck they are.  The only landmark Dean can pick up is ‘neon’, and that’s not especially helpful since it covers literally every wall in sight.  It’s not that Dean’s _drunk_ , but he’s definitely getting there, and he’s _definitely_ offended at Cas’s current state.

“Dude, how the hell are you so sober?!  You had at least as many as I did.”

“I have an unusually high tolerance to alcohol,” Cas admits, shrugging lightly.  “Next right,” he adds, glancing down at the map.

Dean isn’t 100% sure what to do with himself once they finally arrive back at the hotel.  Is Cas a hand shake guy?  A manly-hug type’a dude? 

“Cas, man, that was pretty great,” he grins.  “I’d say let’s do it again tomorrow but I’ve got a shoot scheduled.  Sucks.”

“I’m.. sorry to hear that?”

“Yeah, sounds about right.  But hey, we’ll pick this up.  You’re my tour guide now, buddy; no goin’ back.”

“I think I can deal with that,” Cas replies, smiling.

“A’ight.  What floor you on?  I’m on 6.”

Cas is on 7, so as Dean leaves the elevator, he goes for a quick fist bump, which Cas only just manages to make, before heading off to hit the hay.

 

0o0o0o0o0

  
For the first time since he arrived in Japan, Cas actually wakes up the next day within the normal parameters of what can be considered ‘morning’.   Until now, he’s been waking up at more like 3am, and either tosses and turns trying to get back to sleep for the rest of the night, or browses the internet until the sun comes up.  (His niece Claire is always on hand with the latest cute cat video.)  It’s a relief, then, to wake and see that it’s already risen, light drifting lazily through the gap in the curtains. 

He supposes he has Dean to thank for this.  As he lays in bed, slowly letting his mind drift toward lucidity, he thinks that he’s going to miss spending time with him today.  He had finally managed to get outside – finally managed to see Meiji Jingu, and got to use the language he’d studied for weeks on end, all because Dean had dragged him out into the open.

Dean, who, it turns out, might be quite famous?  Cas frowns, taking his phone from the bedside table and typing ‘Dean Winchester’ into Google.  His eyes widen as various professionally taken photos of Dean (in various stages of undress) pop up instantly, but almost to his relief, he really doesn’t recognise any of them. 

He already knew Dean was.. physically pleasing.  It would be very difficult _not_ to notice, he reasons.  But he hardly expected to see his new companion half naked just a day after meeting him.  It’s a little overwhelming.  The photographers evidently knew what they were doing, too – making sure all the angles were just right, showing off his most pertinent features – eyes, lips…

Cas swallows, and quickly closes the window, followed by his phone.  He doesn’t want to become one of the herd, idolising Dean for something he was simply born with. 

And yet.  Dean talked to him _fir-_

No.

Cas shakes his head, pulling the covers off of him and heading to the shower, changing the track on his thoughts.

Tokyo.

He _knows_ it frustrates Anna that he refused to go explore Tokyo by himself, but there wasn’t much he could do about it at the time.  The tight, crushing feeling in his chest whenever he thought about facing a new, huge city alone was too much to handle, and so he ended up sitting and staring out into the horizon whilst reading about it on Wikipedia instead.  

He thinks maybe today might be different.

He knows the basics of the train system now, and if he leaves more towards lunch time, he’s sure it won’t be quite as busy as it was yesterday morning.  If he constructs a solid, simple plan, that’ll be fine, he thinks.  In the meantime, he goes down to eat breakfast, knocking on Anna’s door just in case she wants to join.  From the lack of response, it seems she’s already gone to work.  It’s her loss – the continental breakfast the Hyatt serves is very good.

Even though the train journey is longer than he would like, he decides on Asakusa as his destination.  It’s home to _Senso-ji_ , a famous Buddhist Temple, which Cas is fairly certain wouldn’t take to Dean’s liking all that much considering how he had reacted to Meiji Shrine yesterday.  For him, one step into Japan’s religious culture is probably enough.  For Cas, though, visiting _Senso-ji_ is up in his Top 5 Things To Do In Tokyo, so going alone seems the best thing to do. 

The journey passes in stages.

One moment, he’s on a train leaving from Shinjuku, barely finding a seat for the number of travellers, even at this time of day.  Still, at least he has a little space of his own, rather than being pressed in against his fellow human beings like a can of sardines as it would be during rush hour.  Outside the window, Tokyo speeds past, towering high over the train so he can barely see past the first line of buildings.  Tokyo is a very vertical city; their method of dealing with their lack of land space.

The next, he’s sitting in a train on the Chuo line – a quick, efficient transfer across one platform to another, but even so, it serves as a reminder of how far he’s already gotten from his starting point.  He can feel the anxiety begin to pool gently in his stomach, and does his best to ignore it; tries to channel the confidence that practically emanated from Dean.  Besides, he has the language, he has his _phone,_ and therefore he has no reason to be worried.

He takes the time whiling away on the train to observe the train habits of the Japanese, to give him something to do.  In general, it seems that they’re making sure to keep themselves to themselves, most blocking out the outside world by closing their eyes to it, some reading or checking their phones, but one notable teenage girl is busy applying her make-up even through the turbulent jumps and turns the train is making.  Her dedication is an impressive sight.

He wants to put his headphones in to play some music, or maybe pick up an audiobook from the app store, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to close himself off from any aspect of these new experiences.  He enjoys hearing and interpreting the Japanese spoken over the tannoy, the hushed conversations unfolding around him, the quirky melodies playing as they depart each platform.  It’s all key to immersing himself, and the more focused he is on that, the lighter the feeling in his chest becomes.

When he arrives, he’s a little surprised at how much Asakusa itself feels far removed from the hectic, modern atmosphere that exemplifies Shinjuku.  Skyscrapers are replaced with far more modest buildings, at least in the vicinity of the train station, and even though there are still a decent number of people, it isn’t the constant, almost claustrophobic stream of central Tokyo.

 _Senso-ji_ itself is where the most concentrated amount of people are, which is no surprise, given it’s one of the top tourist destinations in the city, so Cas had prepared himself for it.  He wanders slowly, taking the time to experience everything with all five senses.  He takes his time studying the _Kaminarimon_ , a gate built to mimic a section of a pagoda, and the huge red lantern hanging from its center; one of the most defining features of _Senso-ji_ as a tourist attraction.  The _kanji_ covering the entire bright red face of it reads _kaminari,_ or ‘thunder’, which is fitting for the statue of the thunder God, Raijin, sitting to its right. 

At the temple, Cas makes sure to immerse himself in the culture properly.  He washes his hands at the water pavilion to purify his body and mind, and then goes to pray.  As per tradition, he throws a coin as an offering, claps his hands to wake the deity and silently expresses his feelings of gratitude. 

If green eyes and spiked brown hair come to mind… only the gods need to know.

0o00o0o0o

 

It isn’t too long gone half midnight when a piece of paper slides unobtrusively under Cas’s door.  It’s official Park Hyatt printed paper with a short, typed message:

       ‘can you sleep? – dean’

His room number is printed underneath.  Cas’s stomach rolls a little as he contemplates accepting what he can only assume is Dean’s invitation for company, but it’s true that he’s having difficulty getting to sleep, and company sounds nicer than continuing to stare at the ceiling for hours.  The warmth he feels at the thought that Dean turned to him when sleep eluded him, even though they’ve hardly known each other for any time at all, certainly helps. 

Cas can’t remember the last time he thought he might be making an honest-to-god friend.

That feeling sitting warm within him is what spurs him into picking up the phone and typing in the given room number.

“ _Moshi-moshi_?” Dean says, the unmistakable Texan-infused drawl identifying him even through the... attempt at Japanese.

“You’ve improved,” Cas says fondly in answer, telling the truth if only because this means Dean’s increased his vocabulary by at least a phrase.

“Cas!  Evenin’.  Thanks, man, I got taught some stuff today.  Like how to answer phones.  At least, I think that’s what that was.  Maybe I just called you a douchebag or something.”

“No, you’re fine.  _Moshi-moshi._ ” Cas says, smiling fondly.  “You’ll be fluent in no time.”

“Yeah, well, they kept going on about ‘how good I was at Japanese’ after I repeated like two words?  Guess I’m a natural.” He pauses.  “Or they were just trying too hard to be nice.”

“No comment.”

“There you go.  Hey, I guess this means you can’t sleep either, huh?”

“I could use a distraction,” Cas replies truthfully.  “Sleep seems.. somewhat elusive.”

“I hear ya.  Come on down if you wanna, we can watch some Japanese TV or somethin’.”

Which is how they end up spread across either side of Dean’s bed watching what’s undoubtedly the strangest game show they’ve ever seen.  A group of men are lined up and being quizzed; normal enough, save for the fact that they’re also strapped to mechanical devices whose sole purpose seems to be driving hard and without mercy into the men’s genitals if they answer a question wrong.  It’s a little worrying, to say the least, but Dean’s contemplative admission that,

   “y’know, I coulda sworn I had a dream like this once,”

is even more so. 

They quickly change the channel after that. 

At this time of night, it’s mostly international news channels, subtitled Western films or Japanese movies with bad production values playing across all the available channels.  None of it is particularly inspiring.

“Did you get outside today?” Dean asks out of nowhere, turning the volume down as he speaks.  Evidently he’s not finding any entertainment from the available options, either.

“I did, as a matter of fact,” Cas replies, nodding, glad for the interlude.

“Oh hey! Progress,” Dean smiles.  “Glad to hear it, man.  These hotel rooms can get kinda stuffy after a while.”

“Some fresh air is always a nice change,” Cas agrees.  “I decided on a temple today, and after going through the travel process yesterday, the journey seemed a lot easier.  Even if it was considerably longer.”

“See, easy once you start, right?”

“Your confidence helped to spur me on, I suppose.  That, and the looming boredom I was faced with otherwise.”

“Damn, Cas, don’t model yourself after me.  Nothing good can come from that,” Dean says, going for ‘joking’, but instead ending up somewhere around ‘unnerved’.  He ruffles a hand through his hair, staring down at the duvet.

“I disagree,” Cas counters, contemplative.  “You seem to have an energy for trying out new things that I unfortunately lack.  Luckily, it seems infectious.”

“Is there a good kind of infectious?” Dean asks, only half-joking.

“Of course.  Infectious smiles, laughter, energy.”

“Heh, you got me there.” 

The slight discomfort in Dean’s posture, not to mention his attempt at a non-sequitur tell Cas that maybe he should change the subject.  Anna’s told him more than once that he has a habit of ‘digging too deep into people’s souls’, and Dean seems like the sort of person who might not appreciate that.  It’s a shame; there’s something about Dean that fascinates Cas, makes him want to delve deeper into the inner workings of his mind.  He knows enough to understand that two days into a new friendship isn’t the best time for that sort of thing, though, so he moves on to something he hopes Dean will find easier to talk about. 

“How was your day?”

“Oh, uhh,” Dean hesitates at the change in conversation, and then makes a face.  “Fancy.  They’re all so goddamn polite about everything – ‘Mr. Winchester’ this and ‘Mr. Winchester’ that.  Professional, though.  Apart from the translation problems the shoot was a breeze.”

“Translation problems?” Cas cues.

“Yeah, man.  I’d ask for instructions and the translator’d repeat it back to the director, but like, using five times as many words.  It took frickin’ forever.” He shrugs.  “You just gottta grit your teeth and get it done, no matter how stupid the instructions they give you are.  Same as back home.”

“Did they take you to eat $100 beef?”

“What? _Oh._ ” Dean laughs quietly to himself when he remembers what exactly Cas is referring to.  “Nah, not today, anyway.  They took me to this high class sushi place.  And look, Cas, dude, I’ll eat a lot of crap.  I ate your pancakes, right?”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but, I tell ya, this was way more of a challenge.  The shit they put on top of rice here, dude.  There were some good ones – prawn, shrimp, y’know.  But.. ugh, gimme the pancake any day.  Or, even better, a cheeseburger.”

“Sushi can certainly be an acquired taste,” Cas muses. 

“You’re telling me.  But hey, Dean Winchester never backs down from a challenge.  And the hosts, man; once they got a few drinks in ‘em, they were pretty awesome.  They let me teach ‘em some English curse words in exchange for a few Japanese phrases, which I’ve forgotten all of except for that one, _moshi-moshi_.”

“I’m sure that’ll come in very handy,” Cas replies, smiling softly. 

“Alright, smartass, you teach me something useful, then,” Dean says, sitting up.  Cas contemplates the challenge for a small moment.

“ _Sou desu_ is a very useful phrase.”

“… _Sou desu?”_  Dean repeats – or at least, he tries to.

“ _Sou desu_.”

“… Which means…?”

“At its essence, it translates to ‘that’s right’.  You can answer a lot of things using it.”

“A’ight, lemme practice, go on,”

“Alright.  _Anata wa Diin Uinchesta desu ka?”_

“No, wait, hold on, what the shit was that?”

“What?” Cas blinks in confusion.

“Was that supposed to be my _name_?”

“Oh, I see.  Yes, but as the Japanese would pronounce it, given their lack of certain sounds we have access to. ‘W’, for example.”

“… That explains why nobody could pronounce my name earlier.  Alright, hit me, let’s go again.”

“ _Anata wa Diin Uinchesta- desu ka?”_

 _“… Sou.. desu?”_ Dean hesitates as he answers; one because he has only a vague idea what it is he’s answering, and two, he can only just remember what Cas taught him.

“Well, _yoroshiku,_ Dean.”

“And that means…?”

“… Let’s just say it means ‘nice to meet you,” Cas decides after a moment.  “It’s an intricately layered word.”

“Got it.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to learn?”

“Yeah.  Tell me the word for ‘dick’,” Dean says, grinning like it’s the best thing he’s ever said.  Cas sighs gently, making a show of getting up and off the bed and walking towards the door, away from his 12 year old friend.

“Cas, dude, c’mon, you gotta tell me!”

“Maybe in the morning,” Cas deflects, motioning towards Dean’s alarm clock resting on the bedside table.  “It’s 4am, Dean.”

“Oh, shit, you’re right.” As if on cue, Dean yawns as he reaches the end of the sentence.  “Alright, dude, let’s rain check that.  I’m off duty tomorrow, so…,” he leaves that hovering in the air for Cas to pick up.

“Okay.  I have a few ideas that I think you’ll enjoy a little more,” Cas smiles.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dean says, smiling as Cas waves goodbye for the night.

 

0o0o0o0o0 

 

If there’s one thing Dean has noticed so far about his stay in Tokyo, it’s that it hasn’t really been what he expected, if he expected anything at all.For a country that’s known on the internet for it’s downright eclectic porn above.. pretty much anything else, everyone and everything seems so _normal._ They’re all so polite; quiet, normal human beings who get up and go to work every day like everyone else.  Hell, it turns out the Japanese barely even have _curse words._ If he’d so much as hinted at some of the shit he’s seen online to his handlers at dinner yesterday they probably would have blushed him outta the room, considering even hinting that he was an occasional anime fan caused them to launch into a speech about ‘not wanting him to become an outcast’.

So it’s a bit of a shock to the system to walk out of Akihabara Station to be confronted with gigantic posters of anime characters from the offset.

 

“Holy shit.  I guess this is where it’s all been hiding, huh?”

“If by ‘it’, you mean..”

“All the nerdy crap you’d expect from this country.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles weakly.  “Akihabara is the so-called ‘mecca’ for _otaku_ , or ‘geeks’.”

“I believe it.  Shit, I mean, look at that,” Dean replies, pointing to a huge shop just metres from the station with windows absolutely _full_ of what look like cosplay outfits.  “Charlie probably spends her _life_ in these sorts of places.”

“Charlie?”

“Oh, right.  She’s the friend I mentioned the other day.  She’s all into geeky shit like Harry Potter and roleplaying and Comicon.  And, hey, also anime.”

“And you aren’t?” Cas asks, sounding genuinely curious.  Dean falters.

“I, uh.”

“Don’t worry if you think it affects your ‘street cred’, if that’s the problem,” Cas says, entirely serious.  Dean can’t help but laugh at the combination of _Cas_ , straight-faced, deadpan Castiel saying ‘street cred’ combined with the finger apostrophes the guy seems to love so much.

“I dabble,” Dean admits.  “Charlie’s taken me to a few of her nerdy hangouts, Comicon once or twice.  I draw the line at Harry Potter, though, no matter how many times she tries to sneak those books into my house.”  Seriously, he’s found them freakin’ _everywhere._ In the microwave, under the doormat, behind his TV, in his bathroom, tucked into his bed..

“I had a feeling,” Cas says, cryptically.

“… Huh.  I mean, I only -,” Dean pauses.  He’s getting the incessant need to defend himself – to say that he only watches hentai, or the _cool, macho_ anime with all the guns and mecha, but somehow he can’t bring himself to lie to Cas.  “I mean.  Charlie introduced me to some stuff, and it kinda all went downhill from there.”

There are photos, hidden away somewhere, that Dean plans never to unveil to the world.

By this point they’ve made it to the entrance of the costume shop, only to find out that the window dressing might have been a little.. misleading.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Dean says, raising an eyebrow as he stares into the shop.  Where, it turns out, there’s a TV playing actual, honest-to-god porn right there, out in the open.  “There’s something you don’t see every day.  I guess this country _ain’t_ as kosher as I thought.”

“Oh,” is all Cas can muster.  He’s backing away.  A little slower, maybe, than he should be.

They decide it’s a pretty good time to grab some food, after that.  The ‘ _katsu_ curry’ place they end up heading to, given its convenient location just across the road, is unlike any curry Dean’s ever had before, but damn if it isn’t good for a bit of breaded pork, rice and a mildly spicy curry-esque sauce.  The whole ‘grab a ticket, hand it over and get your food’ system is pretty great, too.

“Generally, the Japanese are quite.. restrained,” Cas says suddenly between mouthfuls, like he’s picking up in the middle of a conversation they never started.  “I suppose Akihabara brings out something else in them.”

“Well, I mean, that was one store, dude.”

“Yes, but this entire district – it celebrates _otaku_ culture.  _Otaku_ are often looked down upon by others, so it’s interesting that a whole area would be created around them.  Although, of course, Akihabara started off as an electronics district, so I suppose it branched off from there.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, that’s why there are still so many electronic goods stores dotted in amongst those geared towards _otaku.”_

“Huh,” Dean replies eloquently, before shoving another forkful of curry into his mouth.

“I’ve never been to a Comicon before,” Cas muses after a moment, evidently looking for a topic change. 

“Don’t think it’d be up your alley, bud.  Lots of people.  _Lots._ ”

“Oh,” Cas says, making a face.  “They dress up as well, I believe?  That would be interesting to see, at least.”

“Yeah, people get really into that sorta thing.”

Cas pauses, thinking for a moment, before asking, “have you…,”

“Nope,” Dean cuts in before Cas can even finish his question, in a _doth protest too much_ fit of madness.  “Nah.”  He takes a convenient sip of his drink.

After that, it’s exploration time.  At its core, Akihabara is one long, two-sided street of pure _geek._ It’s a colorful place to walk around, literally; the buildings are painted bright yellow here, blue there, and occasionally huge anime posters drape down multi-story buildings.  In fact, everywhere you look there’s bound to be _some_ sort of anime reference: even the electronics shops are blaring out anime trailers on the huge TVs they’re selling as you walk by.  Dean has no idea what the shop assistants are yelling out to passers-by from shop entrances, but if he had to guess it’d probably be something anime related, too.  It’s no wonder it’s a mecca for geeks; every single store has something going on that’d make the average Comicon goer light up.

Overall, Dean isn’t entirely sure what to make of it all. 

“It’s certainly intriguing, that people can get so caught up in this 2D world,” Cas muses as they walk past what looks like a retro gaming store, if anything Charlie’s taught him has actually sunk in.

“I’ve heard the stories, man.  People marrying their Nintendo virtual wives, y’know.”  Dean shrugs.  “I just don’t get it.”

“Of course, that’s seen as strange even within Japanese culture,” Cas points out.  “We just get what filters through the internet, which tends to be the.. odder things.”

“Speaking of strange,” Dean says, pointing not entirely subtly at a few girls standing along the side walk dressed in what look like bonafide sexy French maid outfits, even though they look about 14.  “Kinda like that Lolita stuff, right?”

“It does look very similar, yes,” Cas say, squinting. 

The girls are busy handing out flyers, chatting to passers-by in voices so high only dogs should realistically have been able to hear them.  It’s so obviously put on, just like the entire get up is a ploy to entice people to buy whatever the hell is it they’re selling. 

“I think they’re advertising Maid Cafes,” Cas muses as he looks on.    

“Come again?”

“They’re an interesting phenomenon,” is all Cas has to offer.

“...Okay?” Dean frowns.  “I guess it’s exactly what it sounds like?”

“I don’t really know.  They aren’t something I ever took the time to read up on.”  He pauses, contemplative.  “The internet _did_ say that they’re a feature of Akihabara tourists shouldn’t miss out on.”

“Cas, seriously?  Look at them, they’re not even _barely_ barely legal.”

Cas frowns up at Dean, at that.  “They aren’t there to perform sex acts on their customers, Dean.  ..There are many other establishments across Tokyo for that express purpose, however.”

“Yeah, okay.  What makes the Maid Cafes so unmissable, then?”

“The experience of cultural oddities, I suppose.”

“Dude, this whole _place_ is a cultural oddity.  I think we’ve got it covered.”

They decide to veto the Maid Cafes.

It’s not long after that Dean’s phone starts sounding off, the display showing a number he’s never seen before.  Curious, he picks up.

“Hello?”

“Deanarino?!”

Dean’s demeanour changes the instant he hears who’s on the other end of the line.  “Charlie!  Long time no speak!”

“You should have told me you were in Tokyo, dude.  I woulda been there to leap on you at the airport!”

“ _I_ should have told _you?_ Just how long have you been here, anyway?”

“Aah..  a few months now..” Charlie tails off, sounding a little remorseful.  “It was just one of those split-second decisions, y’know?  When you’re like, ‘I gotta change my life!’, and then the next second you’re on a plane to Tokyo.”

“Oh, yeah, I get that all the time.”

“Yeah yeah, okay.  Jokes aside, what are you even doing here?!”

“They want me to advertise some shit.  Money’s good, couldn’t really say no.”

“Huh, I’m impressed.  The flight isn’t exactly short.”

“Yeah, well.  Metallica and AC/DC got me through.  Plus, hey, I’m ‘experiencing the world’ or whatever hippie spiel Sam’d give me.”

“Are you going solo?  Or ‘Lost in Translation’-ing that shit up?”

Dean frowns, never normally one to let a pop culture reference go over his head.  “What?”

“Bill Murray?  Scarlett Johansson?  Dude, that’s a power-combo if ever there was one.”

“Never seen it,” Dean shrugs.  “And no, not solo, I’ve got people to show me the ropes.”

“Well, it’s okay, you’re probably living it anyway.  Where are you staying?”

“Uuh… the Park Hyatt in Shinjuku.”

“ _Dude_.”

“What?”

“I just.  I can’t handle the pure _meta_ that’s happening right now _._ ”

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about, right?”

“ _Lost in Translation!_ Seriously, you should look it up.  You’ll get it.”  Charlie laughs amicably down the line.  “Anyway, Shinjuku, huh?   You’re practically next door to me!  Guess you have no choice but to let me come hang out with you.”

“Shit, and I was trying so hard to avoid that.”

“Well, you can blame your brother!”

“This is him punishing me for being in Tokyo, I guess.”

“Well, it’s Saturday tomorrow – how about we commence your punishment then?”

“Sounds like a plan, kiddo.  Hey, mind if I bring a friend along?”

At that, Cas whips his head round, eyes wide.  Dean claps a hand on his shoulder absently as he listens to Charlie’s reply.

“A friend, huh, Dean?”

“Hey, not-,” Dean hesitates, glancing over to Cas, who’s squinting at him.  “Not in the way you’re thinkin’.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll just have to gauge that for myself!”

“Uh huh.  Okay,” Dean sighs in mock exasperation, knowing he can never win when it’s Charlie he’s up against. 

After that, it’s just a matter of figuring out a time and place.

“Dean, I don’t want to invade on your time with your friend-,” Cas starts as soon as Dean’s hung up the phone. 

“Nah, man, don’t worry, Charlie’s great.  She’s looking forward to meeting you!  Plus this means you get to see more of Tokyo, so win-win, right?”

“I.. I suppose.  Thank you?”

“You’re welcome, bud.”  He hesitates.  “Uh, but if you don’t actually _want_ to come, that’s a whole other thing.”

“No, no, it sounds like fun,” Cas says, going for assuredly but ending up somewhere more akin to ‘nervous’.  “I appreciate the invite.”

0o0oo0o0o

Dean doesn’t even see her coming; one second he’s standing, waiting, chatting absently to Cas, and the next he’s got an armful of Charlie, her distinctive red hair flying up into his face, as if he needed any more confirmation.  She’s apparently going for the ‘Tightest Hug of the Year’ award with the neck hold she’s got going, and for a small kid she does a good job of nearly knocking Dean to the ground with it.  He manages to plant himself before hugging her back for all he’s worth, ruffling her hair for extra credit.

“It’s so, _so_ good to see you, Dean!!” she grins once she’s finally detached herself and dropped back down to floor-level, sliding her over-ear headphones down around her neck.  There’s what sounds like preppy pop music blaring from them until she unplugs them from her phone.  Dean doesn’t ask. 

“Tell me about it.  Shit, what’s it been, a year?”

“Longer, I bet.  You’re a difficult man to get a hold of, y’know?”

“What can I say? I’m in demand.”

Charlie raises a sarcastic eyebrow.  “Don’t I know it.  And hey, this must be Castiel!” She swings round to address Dean’s travel companion, and for a split second Dean thinks she’s about to launch herself at _him,_ too, which would be freakin’ hilarious, but she shows some restraint. 

“Hello,” Cas says, raising an awkward hand in greeting.  Charlie grins, raising her own to hi-five Cas and initiate the introduction process.  Dean scoffs as Cas lowers his hand post-five, evidently a little confused, but hey, he pushes through.  “Dean’s told me a lot about you.”

“Wish I could say the same for you!  Guess I’ll just have to figure you out for myself.  Pretty much all I know so far is that you’re the ‘Angel of Thursday’,” Charlie replies, giving the moniker the air of mystery it deserves.

“Come again?” Dean asks, blinking.

“Oh, I’m no angel,” Cas says, sounding genuinely serious about it.  “But I’m surprised you know that.”

“My Google-Fu has no bounds,” Charlie grins.  At Dean’s blank expression, she rolls her eyes.  “It’s what his name means!  Get with the programme, Dean.” 

“Google-Fu?” Dean repeats, incredulously.  Charlie only sticks her tongue out in reply.  “Anyway, you wouldn’t have heard much about him, seeing as I only met him this week,” he reasons.  “He’s been my travel buddy, taking me round the best of Tokyo.”

“You must know your stuff then, huh Cas?  Dean only chooses the best, as I’m sure you can tell,” she winks, punching Dean’s arm amicably.

“I, uh.  I’ve read a lot.”

“I can dig that.  You look like a book-ish type-a person.”

“Uh.”

“That’s a compliment, don’t worry!  I’ve tried to get Dean into it but he’s kinda stoic.  Although.. I guess you mean travel guides and stuff, right?  Context.”  She giggles.  “I guess I’ll have to do my best to show you some of the really niche stuff then, huh?”

“Hey, I read,” Dean retorts, a little put out.  “I got the whole Vonnegut collection at home.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the Prisoner of Azkaban, locked in your glovebox for months on end.”

“Yeah, okay.  It might have helped if you _told me_ about that.”

“All the other heinously discarded copies say no, Dean.”

“Ugh, whatever.  I refuse to chat Potter with you.  Tell me, what fun things have you got lined up for us today, huh kiddo?”

At that, Charlie grins playfully, reaching into her over-the-shoulder bag to pull out her tablet, the pink cover of which is layered with horrendously cutesy stickers that cover the entire spectrum from ‘neon’ to ‘glittery’.  Charlie doesn’t miss the face Dean pulls.

“Hey, don’t judge.  It’s difficult _not_ to get caught up in the whole _kawaii_ culture thing, here.  Anyway, _so_ not the focal point!”  She powers up the tablet and loads what Dean assumes is an itinerary, from the looks of it.  “Here’s a list of all the things we’re gonna get done today.  No negotiations!!”

Dean and Cas take a few moments to pore over the list, which includes items like ‘games arcade’, something called ‘purikura’, and –

“A _cat café?”_   Dean pulls another face.  “Seriously, Japan.  First Maid Cafes, and now this?”

“Oh my gosh, _please_ tell me you went to one of those!”

“Are you serious?  The girls looked criminally young.”

“We decided it was best to avoid them,” Cas chimes in.

“Aw,” Charlie pulls a mock sad face.  “I would give anything to see Dean-o here do the chanting!”

“There’s _chanting_ involved?  What the hell, they performing rituals in there or somethin’?”

“Nooo… it’s all about making the food more delicious.  At least, I think that’s what it was,” she adds contemplatively, scrunching her face up as she tries to remember the finer details.

“It sounds like a ritual,” Cas agrees.

“Well, maybe.  But cat cafes don’t have anything like that, I promise!  Just, y’know.  Cats.”

“You know I’m allergic, right?” Dean points out, raising an eyebrow, but Charlie just rolls her eyes fondly, once again reaching into her bag.

“Of course I do!  That’s why I brought this along.”  She draws out a white piece of cloth, holding it up like she expects Dean to know what it is.  When his raised eyebrow doesn’t quit, she pouts.  “It’s a face mask!”

“Charlie.”

“No no, hear me out.  You must have seen people wearing these around Tokyo, right?  It’s normal!  If they have a cold, or want to cover something up, or.. have allergies!”  She grins.  “I said no negotiations, remember?”

“I would quite like to go to this Cat Café,” Cas inputs, and Dean huffs at the betrayal.

“See, Cas is on my side,” Charlie grins. 

“Fine, fine.  But only ‘cuz it’s literally impossible to say no to you.”

“Aw, Dean, I knew you’d come round.”

“What else is on this list, anyway?”

“Oh, right, well, first we’re gonna go to one of my favourite arcades!  Which is good, because we can kill two birds with one stone there.”

“Do you mean.. ‘purikura’?” Cas asks, squinting down at the word as he tries to decipher it.  “What is that?”

Charlie only grins wickedly up at him.

“You’ll just have to find out!”  At Cas’s confused, slightly unnerved expression, Charlie simply reaches up and boops his nose. 

It’s the start of a beautiful friendship.

O0o0o0o0o

The games arcade they end up in is – freaking _loud,_ for starters.  There’s a constant stream of noise coming outta every single machine, from catchy melodies to constant streams of high-pitched, fast paced Japanese.  There are a few things scattered around that Dean’s familiar with, like Mario Kart racing simulators, a huge variety of claw cranes, and that dancing game – Dance Dance Revolution, or whatever, but it also comprises of a tonne of stuff he’s never seen before.  Like, for instance -

“Is that a table?” he asks incredulously, motioning over to what looks like an arcade machine with, yeah, a small red table attached to the front.  Charlie claps her hands together excitedly, like a little kid in the candy aisle, and reaches out to grab both her companion’s wrists, dragging them to the mystery machine.

“A+ for you, Dean!  This.. is the Table Flipping game.”

Which ends up being exactly what it sounds like.  They take turns flipping the small table into scenarios like a family dinner, an office, and someone’s _wedding._  

“I can imagine this being quite the cathartic activity,” Cas muses as he watches the once intricately layered cake fly across the room and slam down to the ground in a mess of pixelated sponge and icing, causing mayhem amongst the 3D guests.

 “Oo, if it’s cathartic you want?  You should try out this one over here,” Charlie says, motioning to a game with a similar set up, only here the table’s been replaced by a giant boxing glove.

Dean never thought he’d be able to say that he’s punched out a T-Rex before, but that’s Japan for you.

“This is how the Japanese get their kicks, huh?”

“Trust me, the business man life ain’t so great.  Stress relievers are a must,” Charlie explains.  “School kids, too.  They work them _hard_ over here.”  She grins wickedly.  “You wouldn’t have lasted a year.”

“Hey, hey, alright, personal attacks now, huh?  I’ll have you know, I could have done great things at school, if I actually gave a shit.”

“There it is.  Oh, hey, _Taiko no Tatsujin’s_ free!” Charlie drops that line of conversation to gleefully bound over to a large machine that’s fitted with two huge barrel drums at the front.  “This one should be pretty self-explanatory, but I’ll give you a demonstration, ‘cuz I’m just nice like that.”  She picks up two sticks attached to the drum on the left, slots an 100 yen coin into the machine, and starts making her way through a selection of songs. 

“It’s like Guitar Hero,” Cas muses as he watches Charlie make her selection.  Dean blinks, evidently surprised.

“You know Guitar Hero?”

“Yes, one of my siblings got good at it after he received it as a Christmas present.  I tried, but I don’t really have the aptitude for any musical instrument.  Even fake ones.”

“Huh.”  The image of Cas rocking out to Eric Clapton or maybe Guns n’ Roses on a Sunburst Gibson, hair spiked up and leather jacket donned unwittingly comes to mind, and Dean nearly has a minor coughing fit.  “Doesn’t, uh,” he starts as he recomposes himself, “doesn’t strike me as your sort o’ music.”  It’s one thing that his suddenly overactive imagination would take someone like Castiel and turn them on their head, personality-wise, but it’s a whole other thing that it was actually worryingly kind of hot.

“-- you might call an eclectic taste.  I don’t really have a preferred ‘genre’.”  Dean refocuses, managing to catch most of Cas’s reply.

“Gotcha.  What about this sort of stuff?” He asks, motioning to the game machine, where Charlie’s choice, an upbeat, preppy sounding Japanese pop song, has started to play.  At first, it seems like the points she’s hitting the drum at are completely random, but as Dean watches, he realises that the red circles on the screen correspond to _this_ part of the drum, and blue circles to _that.._ or at least, he thinks so.

“It’s, uh.  A little.”  Cas hesitates, trying to find the words.

“Don’t stress yourself, buddy, I get it.”

“I feel like demographically, we aren’t the intended audience, in any case.”

“True, but like I said.  Can’t say no to that girl.”  Dean smiles fondly over at her for a moment.

The song finishes, and Charlie spins round, a wild look in her eyes akin to someone who’s just finished a marathon.

“Jeez, I forgot how much of a workout this thing is!  But you get it, right?  Red, you hit the drum face, blue, you hit the rim.”  She holds out the sticks to Dean, and motions for Cas to pick up the ones on the right.  “It’s easy!”

Dean’s charged with choosing their song as player one, but scrolling through them all, he finds he can barely distinguish one from the other.  That is, until Charlie nudges him.

“Hey, go back one?”  She pauses.  “Don’t you recognise it?”

Dean takes a moment, taking in the melody and trying to align it with a memory.  Any memory at all.  It takes a moment, but he’s surprised when, actually, he realises he’s humming along a little.

“Isn’t this from that… Neon Genesis whatever you showed me ages ago?”

“Good memory!  Neon Genesis Evangelion.  A classic.”

It starts off deceptively easy.

A few red hits here, blue there.

But it isn’t long before Dean realises he must have chosen the ‘hard’ setting or something, because all of a sudden hits are rushing in from the right quicker than he can keep up.  He’s never been the best at video games to start with, never had the time, but he finds that he’s pushing himself, thwacking the sticks down with all he’s got.  It doesn’t help that the game is throwing distractions at him left right and centre, from the cutesy characters supposedly ‘cheering’ them on, but only serving to get in his eye line, to sudden changes in gameplay.

“What’s the yellow mean?!” he barks out to Charlie, far more frantically than he intended.

“Hit the face repeatedly!” she calls out in reply, not doing great at hiding her laughter behind – is that her camera?!  Aw, come on.

It doesn’t help that when Dean chances a glance over his shoulder to look at how Cas is doing, he sees that his companion looks completely immersed and completely straight-faced as he hits the notes perfectly.  Fuckin’ figures he’d be a secret gaming nerd, Dean thinks.  ‘Bad at Guitar Hero’, my ass.

“Shit!” Dean throws down the sticks as he hits the final note.  “You weren’t kidding.  I feel like I just ran a mile.”

“You sure?  Cas looks just fine to me!”

“It was fun,” Cas says, shrugging lightly.  “My arms are a little sore.”

“You’re kidding!” Dean laughs, throwing an arm around Cas’s shoulders.  “You’ve got hidden talents, haven’t you? Stuff you aren’t telling us?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cas replies, looking genuinely perplexed, which draws another laugh from Dean. It’s cut short when Charlie decides to get in on that, leaning in where the boy’s shoulders meet and holding her phone out.

“Aw, Charlie, c’mon -,”

“Too late!” She grins, snapping the selfie before either of them can wriggle away.  “That was way too cute to miss out on.” At Dean’s impressive gaping fish impression, she just winks and pockets her phone.  “Shall we?”

“Uuh, yeah.”  Dean says, quickly removing his arm from around Cas’s shoulders, pointedly not looking in his direction as he moves to follow Charlie.

“Well, if you’re all gamed out, how about we hit the _purikura_?” Charlie asks, spinning round to address the two directly.  She looks innocent enough, standing there, suggesting something neither Dean or Cas understand, but Dean knows her well enough to spot the malicious glint in her eye that spells trouble.

“I… guess?” he replies.  Japan’s been all about the unknown so far; why stop now?  “Lead the way.”

_D: what have i gotten myself into_

“Charlie.”

“Yeees?” Charlie looks over her shoulder, grinning as the elevator doors close behind them. 

“What is this?”

“What does ‘ _purikura_ ’ mean?” Cas tags on, looking at his surroundings with evident trepidation.  Booths of a mystery nature litter the floor, their outer plastic coverings filled with photos of girls plastered in photo perfect makeup, some with hearts and butterflies surrounding them in a collage of a world alien to Dean and Cas.

“I’m glad you asked!  It stands for ‘print club.’”

“That doesn’t really answer the question.” Dean pauses to step aside as the elevator opens again and two girls of around high school age step out.  They look momentarily terrified to see the two unexpected tall white men standing there, and quickly hurry away into a nearby booth.  “Like, at all.”

“Just follow me, and everything will be explained!”

“I’m feeling a little nauseous,” Cas whispers to Dean as Charlie bounds ahead.  “It’s a bad omen.”

“Power through it, buddy,” Dean whispers back, clapping him on the shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner.

Stepping into the booth of Charlie’s choice is a lot like stepping out into bright sunlight after spending an hour in total darkness, enough that Dean raises his hand up to cover his eyes for a second.  The white-walled interior itself is pretty small; big enough to fit maybe three and a half people comfortably, four or five at a push.  To top it off, there’s a sickly-sweet Japanese pop song blaring from the speakers on either side of a screen that’s sitting below what looks suspiciously like a camera. 

It’s also _really freakin’ hot._ So much so that Dean has to de-jacket after only a minute of standing in there, followed quickly by the others.

“Why do I get the feeling I should have just said ‘no’?” Dean muses out loud.  Charlie snickers at that, putting her belongings down on the floor before turning to her companions to explain.

“So!  This is ‘purikura!’  A.K.A the fun way to take photos with your friends, and create memories that’ll last forever!” Her voice has gone up an entire octave, like she’s trying to emulate a Japanese teen to convey her excitement at the prospect of taking some photos.  “Dean, honestly, you should be a natural at this.  It’s basically just quick-fire posing!”

“It seems pretty geared towards, y’know.  Women,” Dean points out, motioning vaguely outside of the booth where all the photos of glamourous women lie.

“Uhh, sure, but who needs fixed gender roles, am I right?!  Destroy stereotypes, that’s how I see it.  And have a great time doing it, to boot!”

“It’s a valid point,” Cas says, contemplative. 

“Cas-,”

“See, your travel buddy agrees, so you’re beaten 2:1!”  To emphasise her point, Charlie slots a handful of 100 yen coins into the machine, firing it up in a flurry of noise and color, and positions herself snugly between Dean and Castiel.  “The idea is to copy the poses you get given, but you can freestyle.  It’s up to you.”

‘ _Saa, hajimarimashou!’_ the machine yells cheerfully at them, signalling the start of the _purikura_ process.  The first recommended pose flashes up on screen, modelled by two girls who look like they’re far more in line with the demographic for this shit than anyone else standing in the booth right now.  It’s pretty tame – the models are looking towards the camera and holding up ‘peace’ signs.  Charlie’s straight in there, throwing up both arms towards the camera with a huge smile.  Cas, on the other hand, is a little apprehensive, tentatively holding up a V to his chest as if he’s still not entirely sure what he’s doing.  To be fair, if he’s in the same boat as Dean, then yeah, he probably isn’t.  Dean rolls his eyes before going to start posing, except suddenly the camera flashes and they’re onto the next position before he can so much as raise a finger.

“Holy shit, this thing goes fast,” he comments, already moving into the next pose: back-to-back.  He doesn’t even have time to think about what he’s doing, or how dignified (if at all) he looks doing it.  It does remind him a little of his photo shoots, if his photo shoots were on speed.

“Hey, Dean, Blue Steel!”  Charlie calls out at some point - Dean can’t even tell, it’s like time has liquefied around him.  That’s probably why he doesn’t even hesitate to bring out his inner Zoolander, not missing Charlie’s loud laughter from beside him, and barely even has time to feel regret as the camera flashes and they move on to the next pose.

After no time at all (or maybe after a torturous hour, it’s so difficult to tell), it ends.  The camera stops flashing, the poses stop coming – they can relax.

“That was.  Strange,” is all Cas has to say, frowning inquisitively as all their taken photos pop up onto the screen.

“But fun, right?” Charlie grins over her shoulder at him in the midst of quickly tapping through some instructions.  Cas treats it as a rhetorical question.

“So now we collect ‘em and go, yeah?” Dean asks, oh-so naively, with the air of a man who is trying to hide how desperately he wants to escape and never mention these turn of events again.

“Oh, Dean.  You sweet summer child.”  Charlie smiles wistfully up at him as she shoulders her bag, dragging a soft palm across his cheek in faux-sympathy.  “Next is _rakugaki._ ”

Dean looks over to Cas, hoping for some clarification, but as is quickly becoming the norm, he’s left in the dark.  Cas only shrugs helplessly, leaving Charlie to saunter out of the booth, motioning for her boys to follow.

It turns out that she’s leading them to a large touchscreen attached to the other side of the booth, where their photos have appeared, ready to be scrutinised.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” is the first thing out of Dean’s mouth.  “We all look like freakin’ aliens!”

It’s not an entirely unjustified observation.  In every photo, all their eyes have been blown up to at least double their normal size, which is more than a little unsettling.

“That’s all part of the fun!” Charlie sing-songs giddily, reaching forward to pick up one of two larger-than-average styluses sitting below the screen and click onto a photo.  “It’s all about appealing to the Japanese standards of beauty.”

“Yeah, for your average Japanese female!” Dean inputs, still staring in disbelief.  He’s been accused of having ‘anime eyes’ before, but.. _damn._

“Hey, what did I say about gender stereotypes?” Charlie reprimands, looking over her shoulder with a gaze that Dean can’t help but associate with her Queen of Moondoor persona.  It has just that hint of regality to it that makes him instantly question his choices, lest he be put to the sword.

“Destroy them,” Cas helpfully answers so Dean doesn’t have to. 

“Yeah.  Yeah, okay.” Dean sighs, moving swiftly on to another topic.  “What d’you do with that?” He motions to the stylus in Charlie’s hand.

“Draw!” she replies, and, in a helpful demonstration, places stylus to screen and flicks it across what Dean recognises as the first photo they took, if only because of the impressive eye-roll he’s pulling from not being able to pose quick enough.  Wherever the stylus goes, it leaves a trail of shining yellow and blue stars, which Charlie eventually joins end-to-end to make a border for the picture.

“God, do they have anything that won’t invoke nightmare flashbacks to Lisa Frank?” Dean quips.  He can almost feel a headache coming on just looking at the sparkles.  He can feel it getting _worse_ when he realises Cas has taken up the second stylus and is starting to draw on another photo, a look of determined concentration etched across his face.

“Oh, it gets _much_ worse,” Charlie assures him as she sifts through the ridiculously large number of design options.

There’s a theme across all the photos, Dean realises as he watches his companions let free their creativity.  Charlie looks exuberant in all of them, smiling and posing like a natural.  Dean has his practiced generic ‘model’ look going on, except for the Blue Steel photo, which even he has to laugh at.  Cas, meanwhile, just looks really confused in every single one, which only makes Dean laugh harder.  To his credit, he’s really trying for accuracy in his posing.

“Bud, you ain’t one for cameras, are you?” he grins over Cas’s shoulder, watching as he places a large piece of Japanese text near the bottom of a photo where the theme was apparently ‘jazz hands’.  Dean can barely remember it, but Cas looks like he was completely disoriented _during_ the shoot, hands stiffly raised and wide blue eyes (made wider courtesy of the digital enhancements) focused somewhere above the camera.

“I’m not normally in front of one,” Cas shrugs.  “This is rare.”

“Hell, I feel like I live half my life in photoshoots and even for _me_ this is rare,” Dean admits, leaning in against Cas a little to scrutinise his work.

“Hey, Cas, look!” Charlie says suddenly, waving a hand across to catch their attention.  When they look over, they see that in the photo Charlie’s currently editing, a back-to-back ‘Charlie’s Angel’s-esque shoot, she’s given Cas a halo and wings, and looks pretty damn pleased with herself for it, too.  “Maybe it’s a little on the nose, but I think they suit you.”

Dean’s not sure what he expects, but the small, genuine smile that blossoms across Cas’s face isn’t it.  “Thank you,” he says sincerely.  “I appreciate the thought.”  He really sounds like he means it, too.

Eventually, they get to the printing stage, where three separate sets of the photos – or, as it turns out, stickers, are flung out of the machine, and they can _finally_ leave.  Dean does, though, take a minute or two to pore over the photos with a fond smile that he would, of course, later vehemently deny had ever been there.  Particularly at the photo where, he’s only just realised, Charlie had somehow managed to duck behind Dean and Cas, her face popping out from behind them as she pushes them shoulder-to-shoulder.

She’s right – they will make good memories, he thinks, as he slides them into his wallet for safekeeping.

Still.  He has a reputation to uphold, and so -

“- man, I could use a drink or two after _that_ ,” is the first thing he says as they’re leaving the games station, walking back into beautiful, Vitamin-D providing daylight.  “I hope these Cat Cafes or whatever provide a bit o’ beer on the side.”

“Dude, trust me, you’ll get your fill of alcohol later.  That’s a promise.  First?  Lunch time!”

0o0o0o0

 

“So how have things been with you, anyway?” Dean asks over a bowl of noodles.  He’d mistakenly called them _ramen_ when Charlie had shown them the restaurant she’d chosen for lunch, only to be cuffed jokingly round the head for his cultural misunderstanding, because, “c’mon Dean, these are _udon._ They’re a whole lot thicker, see?”

“What, you think learning all the different noodle varieties was a part of my pre-trip briefing?”

“Hey, I mean, it’s important,” Charlie shrugs, smirking.  “You’ve got your _ramen,_ your _udon_ , your _soba_ …”

“Alright, _udon,_ got it,” Dean waves a hand at her to make her stop already, jeez.  As long as it tastes good, who cares what it’s called?  And damn, does it taste good.  Who knew that noodles with a few sauces doused on top could be so flavorful?

“Well, it took me a while to settle in, I’ll admit,” Charlie replies.  “I barely speak the language, I didn’t know anyone… but I had savings, and Google.  Can’t go wrong with those two by your side.” 

“ _Nihongo hanaseru to iu imi desu ka?”_ Cas asks, at that, and Charlie grins in excitement.

“ _Chotto dake desune_ _,”_ she replies, a little hesitantly, but when she sees the recognition in Cas’s expression, she lights up.  “Was that right?”

“Hey, guys, remember me?  Your English-exclusive friend over here?” Dean cuts in just as Cas starts to nod in Charlie’s direction.  Whilst he’s not 100% serious about it, it _is_ downright weird being the only person present not able to understand a chunk of conversation.  Hell, they could be talkin’ crap about him and he wouldn’t even know.

“Apologies.  I thought Charlie might have meant she learnt Japanese using Google.”

“And he was right!  I mean, obviously, the immersion helped, but Google was my _sensei_.”

“Your .. teacher?” Dean asks, in a vague recollection from his anime days.

“That’s right!”

“Oh, hey, I know that one too… _sou desu?_ ” Dean asks, screwing his face up as he recalls his conversation with Cas.  He turns to him with a ‘hey, see what I can do!’ victory face when Charlie gives him the thumbs up, and Cas looks warmly back at him in return.

“Well remembered, Dean” he says, before taking another slurp of _udon._

“Oooh, so is Cas _your sensei_?” Charlie asks, her overactive eyebrows and knowing tone an undercurrent that Dean tries to ignore.

“I’m a man of many _senseis_ , Charlie.”

“That so?”

“ _Sou desu.”_

Charlie bursts out laughing, at that.

“What about you, Dean?  Male modelling treating you well?”

“As well as it could,” Dean shrugs, swirling his _udon_ on his chopsticks as he talks.  “Not much has changed, honestly.”

“What about Lisa, how’s she doing?”

Dean freezes, his chopsticks halting in their path.  “Well.  _That’s_ changed,” he amends quietly.

“Oof, can anyone else feel Winter Coming all of a sudden?” Charlie smiles nervously.  “Sorry, bro.  Wrong time, huh?”

“Just.. didn’t work out, is all.”

From the side-lines, Cas watches on, curious.

“I guess, uh, Gilda didn’t make it over here with you?” Dean asks, looking up from his food.

“Nah, we broke it off before I came over here.  She had to, I dunno.  Go home, or some shit.”

“Got it.  So, clean slates for both of us, huh?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Charlie grins, lifting her glass for Dean to tap gently with his own.  


0o0o0o0

 

_D: my god_

“They’re freakin’ _everywhere_ ,” Dean hisses to Cas like it’s some sort of conspiracy, but it comes out as more of a garbled mess behind the face mask he’s begrudgingly put on to try and avoid too much cat-hair-to-nose contact.  Luckily, Cas is a good listener.

“I think that’s the point of a Cat Café, Dean,” he points out fairly.  Dean rolls his eyes.

Speaking of which, once again Japan has duped him.  This so-called ‘cat café’ doesn’t fit with Dean’s image of ‘Starbucks, but with cats’ in the slightest.  In reality, it’s much more like a two-story kitty playpen.  Sure you can buy a drink, but it comes with the unspoken warning that a cat will definitely try and take it straight from your hands when you aren’t looking.  Dean’s happy to go without. 

“No kidding.  But seriously.  I feel like I’m breakin’ out just _looking_ at them all.”

“It probably wasn’t the best idea, you coming in here,” Cas agrees thoughtfully, but then completely abandons all conversation to lean down and stroke a ginger and white fluffy cat that’s passing by.  It stops in its path, evidently lavishing in the head-strokes.  After a moment, Cas glances back up at Dean.  “The face mask is very becoming, though.”

Dean really can’t tell when Cas is joking.

“Ugh, Dean can make _anything_ look good.  It’s one of the most infuriating things about him,” Charlie says, appearing suddenly at Dean’s side.

“Thanks?” Dean blinks, not entirely sure if he was just complimented or not.  The hits are coming thick and fast, today.  It gets all the more confusing when Cas looks like he’s about to reply, but hesitates and shuts his mouth, quickly turning his head back round to the cat instead.

“Yeah!  I mean, even the face mask; it makes your eyes pop _even more_.  God!!”

“Okay, enough already, I get it, you lust over me every night, you don’t have to deny it.”

“Ew, Dean.  Gross.”

“.. Yeah, you’re right.  You’re practically my sister.”  Dean shudders visibly.  Sure, they may not be blood related, but that’s not to say it doesn’t feel like they are, sometimes. 

Meanwhile, Cas is curiously still, his hand sitting frozen on the cat’s back.

“Anyway, I’ve brought you presents,” Charlie says, diverting the subject, and holds out two small plastic tubs, a third held by her side in her other hand.  “It’s the best way to get the cats to come to you – although it looks like you don’t need much help, huh Cas?”

Curious, Dean takes a proffered tub and prises it open to find a small pile of shredded chicken lying unassumingly inside. 

“You know I don’t plan on interacting with any of ‘em, right?” he asks, blinking up at Charlie.

“You don’t have to actually touch them!  Just hold your hand out and they’ll take it right from you.”

“Thank you, Charlie,” Cas says warmly, standing up to thank her at eye level.  The cat he’d been stroking has wandered off, tired of the attention.  “Do I owe you anything?”

“Pshaw, what’s a couple-a hundred yen between friends?” Charlie replies good-humoredly, winking at Cas.

For a while, Dean is happy to sit and watch as Cas and Charlie coax cats over with the chicken – if you could really call it coaxing, that is.  As soon as they’re sat down and have their tubs open for more than a few seconds, the cats are practically sprinting to _them_ , like something outta 28 Days Later, except fluffy and kinda cute instead of horrifying and hungry for human meat.

..Or, well, maybe the cats are, too.  It wouldn’t be all that surprising, Dean thinks, watching as one of them reaches out a paw to bat at Charlie’s hand when she won’t relinquish the chicken quickly enough for its liking.  Even so, it’s clear this isn’t her first rodeo; she’s a natural, letting the cats climb all over her and jump at her face just so they can get some chicken.  Cas, on the other hand, is a little more hesitant; he’s trying to focus on one cat at a time, which is difficult since there are four surrounding him, all meowing for food.  It’s funny to simply watch from the side-lines, for a while, but - 

“you need some help there, bud?” he asks eventually.

“I – they’re very,” Cas pauses as he moves the tub out of reach of a particularly greedy cat.  “They’re persistent,” he finishes, reaching out to pet a fluffy ginger cat as it eats.

“Ya don’t say,” Dean quips, smiling, and then realises that Cas probably can’t tell because, hello, face mask.  So instead he quickly opens his tub, grabs a slice of chicken and closes it again, which instantly catches the attention of a black cat that’s got its paws on Cas’s leg.  Dean holds out his hand, and the cat hesitantly walks up to him, sniffing.  It realises quickly enough what’s on offer, and reaches up a paw to drag Dean’s hand closer.

“Woah, hey there,” Dean says in surprise, but lets the cat take the chicken from his hand, mostly so he doesn’t get it clawed off instead.  “They know what they want, huh?  Hey, eat that away from me, the face mask can only do so much.”

By the time their chicken’s run out, they’ve used up a decent half hour of their session, so Charlie and Cas take the time to wander around and pet some cats whilst Dean stays seated, content to just watch.  It’s a very relaxed place, enough that Dean feels like it wouldn’t be hard to drift off, if he felt like it.  Hell, there’s a guy on the sofa across from him who actually _is_ asleep, a cat purring away happily on his lap.  It’s not surprising; being in there feels like a distraction from the bustling Tokyo metropolis, much like Meiji Jingu had felt.  It’s probably why he isn’t entirely sure how much time has elapsed when Cas comes and sits back down next to him.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.  “Have you felt any ill effects from being around this many cats?”

“Nah, I’m doing alright.  The face mask _does_ seem to be helping, much as I hate to admit it.  It’s not the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn though, gotta say.”

“It’s good of you to go along with it, even if you weren’t entirely happy doing so,” Cas says.  Dean shrugs.

“If it makes Charlie happy,” is all he says in reply.

“You two seem very close,” Cas starts, and hesitates as Dean turns to look directly at him.  “I don’t want to pry.  It’s nice to see.  You really do act akin to siblings.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean shuffles his back up a little.  “She’s, y’know.  She’s been through some stuff.”

“I see,” Cas says, nodding.  “I’ve enjoyed being able to spend time with her.  She exudes a positive energy.”

“Oh Christ, don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who buys into ‘aura’ and ‘energies’ and shit,” Dean says, only half joking.  So sue him; he’s just never had great experiences with witches, is all.  Like that one chick he dated years ago –

“Oh, no, not in that sense,” Cas says quickly, shaking his head.  “She’s one of those people who can make you happier just by being.”

“Well, I’m glad you like her.  She’s a good kid.  Talented, too.  You should see the shit she can do with a laptop and an internet connection.”

There’s a natural lull in conversation as Cas nods, then turns to stroke a cat that’s taken a seat on a ledge behind them.  Dean watches on, absolutely not jealous of a damn _cat_ in the slightest.

“Do you have any pets?” he asks Dean once the cat decides it’s had enough.

“Nah.  Sammy’s had a couple-a dogs.  I think he’s got Bones at the moment, this great golden retriever.  I’ve thought about it but,” Dean shrugs.  “Allergies.  And I had a bad run-in with a dog when I was younger – puts you off.”

“Sorry to hear that.  I hope it wasn’t too bad?”

“I had to get stitches, but nothing worse than that.  To be honest, the way my Dad handled the whole thing was probably worse than the injury.  I loved the guy but shit, he could be insensitive sometimes.”  Dean pauses, then gets a little antsy when Cas doesn’t reply immediately.  “Crap, sorry, I didn’t mean for that to turn into an unloading session.”

“That’s okay.  I’m a good listener,” Cas smiles.

“Heh.  Maybe I’ll hold you to that.  What about you, anyway?  You seem pretty good with the cats here.”

“I’ve always wanted one.  I just never got round to it, I suppose.  They’re supposed to be good companions when you live alone.”

“You live alone, huh?”

“For a number of years now, yes.”

“Doesn’t that ever get lonely?”

Cas shrugs.  “Occasionally.  But my siblings will sometimes drop by, and I’ve learnt to enjoy the solitude.”

“Right, right,” Dean says, although inwardly he can’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the way Cas had worded that; sad that he had to learn in the first place.  “I’m gonna be getting back to the single life when I get home, too, so maybe you can teach me a few things.”

“I would say buy a cat, but we know that isn’t an option,” Cas smiles, and then looks up as Charlie makes her way back over to them.

“Our hour’s nearly up, guys,” she says, and suddenly she’s grabbing her camera from her pocket for reasons that only become clear when Dean remembers that there’s a cat sitting behind Cas.  She snaps a photo of the two of them, Cas and the cat, smiling to herself.  “Cute!”

“Alright, alright, enough of the happy snaps,” Dean says, and then instantly regrets doing so, because of course that only makes Charlie stick the camera directly in his face as penance.

“Jealous you aren’t getting enough of the lens action, huh Dean?”

“Dude, no, I get enough of it at work.”

“Well, too bad,” Charlie smirks, swinging the camera and bringing it round for a selfie.  Dean makes a show of rolling his eyes for it, and so misses Cas leaning into the frame, curious.

“So I can finally take this thing off?” Dean asks as they’re leaving the café.

“Aw, I dunno, I’m kinda digging the look you’ve got going.  I think you should keep it,” Charlie winks at him.  Dean only sighs in mock exasperation before making a show of pulling it off and shoving it back into Charlie’s bag.  “See, now we have to look at _that.”_

“There are worse things to look at,” Cas says out of nowhere, and Dean flings his head round, eyebrows raised.  Obviously that had been Cas’s attempt at joking around, but he hadn’t quite got the nuance, which is telling from the blush starting to form on his cheeks when he sees Dean’s expression.

“Well _Castiel,”_ Charlie jumps in, purposefully over-exaggerating the gently mocking lascivious tone to her voice as she wraps her hands around one of his arms. 

The thing is, Dean gets it all the time.  Like, seriously.  _All the time._   He knows what he’s got, and it’s only reaffirmed daily by men and women alike, given the business he’s in.  Not that he gets a kick out of it like he used to; being called ‘pretty’ quickly turned into one of his pet hates, for one thing, but it’s the opposite nowadays, since he’s just so desensitized to it.  Which probably isn’t great, but –

 _Cas_ even hinting towards something like that has somehow managed to set his stomach on fire.

“I didn’t mean – uh.” Cas is pointedly looking down at the ground, which only makes Charlie squeeze his arm harder.

“Hey, everyone’s a little bit over on the other side of the Kinsey scale when it comes to Dean,” she winks, and Dean groans inwardly, tilting his head up into the air in mock prayer to whatever Gods or angels he normally doesn’t spare a second for might now be listening.  “Hell, on occasion I’ve found myself wistfully wandering down the yellow brick road to Hetero because of him!”

“Bullshit,” Dean counters, swinging his head back down solely to raise an eyebrow at her.  Charlie giggles.

“Alright, maybe that’s a little bit too far.  I toed the line, maybe?”

“Uh _huh.”_ It’s a good thing Dean knows Charlie well enough to know that there just ain’t no freakin’ way. _“_ Hey, but Cas, you’ve got a point,” he starts, bringing his own attempt at lightening the mood to the table.  “It could be Sammy you have to be lookin’ at all day,” he finishes, grinning, though it wavers a little when Charlie scoffs in response.

“Dude, he’s got the genes.  He could take over from you in a heartbeat, if the whole Lawyer thing didn’t pan out.”

“No chance.  He’s on a warpath, and he ain’t planning on looking back any time soon.  He’s got good things going for him.”

“Feelin’ threatened there, Dean?” Charlie winks playfully as she finally relinquishes her grip on Cas’s arm. 

“I would quite like a crepe,” is what Cas decides to jump in with, probably first and foremost as a well needed distraction from the conversation he accidentally put on the rails, but it helps that there really _is_ a crepe place just metres away, a huge Plexiglas stand showing off all the enticing options available.

“Oh shit, would ya look at that.  They _do_ have pancakes in this country!” Dean claps Cas on the shoulder, successfully distracted.  “Good find, Cas.  They ain’t fluffy but damnit, I’ll take what I can get.”

“ _Every_ country has pancakes, don’t they?” Charlie asks, confused.

“Well, I took Dean to an _okonomiyaki_ restaurant, and pancakes were the closest American equivalent I could think of.”

“Except it wasn’t so much of an ‘equivalent’ as an ‘offence to pancakes everywhere’,” Dean puts in.  Now Charlie looks offended on behalf of good Japanese food everywhere.

“Are you kidding?  _Okonomiyaki_ is _so_ good!  And there are so many different ways you can make it, too.”

“Yeah, well, you can keep ‘em.  Now this?  This is what I’m talkin’ about.”  Or, well, close enough anyway.

Contained within the stand are a frankly overwhelming number of topping options to choose from, portrayed using what are incredibly life-like plastic replicas of real crepes.  At first glance, they all look perfectly appetising, but the more Dean looks, the more he realises that a number of choices aren’t exactly conventional.

  

_D: dude_

“Is there a freakin’ _salad_ in some o’ those _?_ ” he asks, shocked and appalled at the lack of respect that’s taking place right in front of his very eyes.

“If it makes you feel any better, this one has a whole brownie in it,” Cas points out, motioning to a crepe that’s filled with a stupid amount of whipped cream, a scoop of ice cream, some strawberries, a small spray of caramel sauce, and, as promised, an entire slice of chocolate brownie.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes out almost reverently, pressing his hand to the Plexiglas.  “That wouldn’t look outta place in a diner back home.”

“If you’d like one, I’d be happy to pay for you,” Cas says lightly.  “As repayment for the _okonomiyaki_.”

“Aw, dude, c’mon, you don’t have to do that.”

“But I’d like to,” Cas points out, and it turns out that’s the end of that argument.  “I’ll get one for you too, Charlie.  It’s only fair.”

“Aw, you sure know the way to my heart, Cas,” Charlie beams, hugging him briefly but tightly around his waist in gratitude.  Cas’s expression is priceless; he clearly has no idea what to do with himself, and so ends up hesitantly patting her back once or twice in reciprocation.

“You’re welcome,” he replies as she lets go, most likely because he thinks it’s the Right Thing to Say.

At Cas’s approval, Charlie decides to order a crepe that’s similar in almost every way to Dean’s, except the brownie is replaced by a slice of cheesecake, whilst Cas decides on a far more muted lemon and sugar.  At Dean’s protest, he simply shrugs.

“I appreciate how delicately pleasing the combination is,” he explains, and, well, Dean can’t argue with that.

“So what else is on the cards for us today, huh Charlie?” Dean asks once they’re sat down, casually tilting himself back on his chair so he can stretch his legs out and eat his crepe with maximum comfort.  ..Even if Cas keeps looking at him like he’s predicting an ominous future that likely involves Dean toppling over backwards and losing half his crepe to the ground.  Which is crazy; Dean’s motor skills are second to none. 

“Actually, there’s just one more thing on my list,” she says, grabbing her iPad to show them.  The sparkles glitter nefariously at Dean in the sunlight.  “Karaoke!”

“Is that where the booze you promised is gonna show itself?” Dean asks, because he’s got his priorities on straight.

“You betcha,” Charlie confirms with a wink. 

“Ugh, thank Christ.  Between the cats and the print club thing I need as much as I can get.”

“Aw, come on, you’ve had fun, right?” Charlie produces Sam’s infamous puppy dog eyes out of thin air with terrifying accuracy, setting her sights directly on Dean.  It’s super effective, and Dean sighs in defeat.

“It’s not the worst day I’ve ever had,” he acquiesces, patting Charlie’s shoulder.  If she misconstrues it as patronizing, well, he would have no idea what she’s talking about.  Truthfully though, he _has_ enjoyed the day so far, he really has, but he’d put that down to the company he has a lot more than the activities themselves.

“I’m not a particularly good singer,” Cas puts in from the side as he stares down quizzically at the tablet.  Charlie shrugs.

“Who says you need to be?  I’m no Florence, y’know?  Terrible, drunk singing is like 80% of the whole experience.”  She grins, flipping her tablet closed.  “Besides, it’s quintessential to the whole Japan thing.  I dunno if you guys have realised, but there’s like five karaoke places down that street alone,” she says, pointing ahead of them.  “See those large bright blue signs every other building?  Karaoke.  Every one of ‘em.”

“You’re kidding,” Dean frowns.

“It does seem a little extravagant.”

“Maybe, but it gives us a tonne of choice, if nothing else!”

Dean has to admit, he’s intrigued.  Mostly because he’s dying to know what song choices Cas is gonna make; it sounds like he could have some interesting stuff up his sleeve.  As long as he doesn’t find himself being forced to sing along to some Taylor Swift crap.  ..Although, that could be hilarious, given that Cas has got a deep rumble to his voice that makes it sound like he’s crunching on gravel half the time.  He grins despite himself, trying to hide it behind his half-finished crepe and failing spectacularly.

For the rest of the day, Dean suddenly finds that he’s having trouble focusing on what’s happening in front of him, far more invested in what’s going on within the confines of his mind.  He finds himself zoning out during conversations, absently nodding along and agreeing to things he wouldn’t otherwise, instead of actively participating.  And whenever he finally refocuses, more often than not he finds that his eye-line is set on Castiel.

Not a surprise, considering that’s who’s taking up a majority of his thought processes.

Dean’s never been a ‘fall hard and fast’ type-a guy, and he doesn’t think that’s the case here, either, but there’s something about Cas that’s led him down that road to Potential Falling far quicker than he ever expected.  .. Did he even expect it?  Cas is good looking, there’s no denying it, but that’s a thought Dean has at least once a day about random passers-by.  It doesn’t mean anything.

Until it does.

It’s a dangerous path to tread, particularly when he’s so hot on the heels of his last break up – if it could even be called that.  Did he break it off properly?  Would Lisa think so?  But, truth be told, even if it’s a damned harsh truth, being around Cas sets things off in him that Lisa had never managed in the few years they had been together.  It’s a damning realisation.

“Dean?  Hey, Dean!” Charlie waves a hand in front of his face, close enough to brush his nose as it passes by, startling him back to reality.

“Oh, hey, what?” Eloquency is, after all, key to making others believe nothing’s wrong.

“Everyone’s here!  Except you, apparently.  What spectral plane were you floating around in?” She grins amicably, and Dean glances around to the small sea of faces that have gathered around them.  Cas is looking his way with his head tilted, questioning.  Shit.  He lets out a breath of a failed laugh.

“Long day?” he tries.  Charlie rolls her eyes, clapping him on the shoulder before making her way towards the building’s entrance.

It turned out that Cas’s sister, Anna, actually had a free evening for once, and had agreed to join them for a group karaoke session, along with a few of her friends.  Charlie, too, had invited along a small gang of people she’d met in Tokyo over the past few months, all in all making for a decent party.  Despite the fact that it means he’ll have to sing in front of more people, it’s probably better than the three of them awkwardly serenading each other for an hour.   Still, normally his audience would consist solely of Sam and his Impala when the long drives they occasionally took needed a bit of a boost.  (Which Dean’s singing 100% provides, despite any protestations Sam might have.)  It’s a bit of a change.

“Dean, this is my sister, Anna.” Cas comes over now that Dean’s finally back in the moment, taking her up to greet him.

“Dean Winchester, right?” she asks, holding out an assertive hand.  “I thought I recognised you!”

“Yup, caught me red handed,” Dean replies, shaking it firmly.  I’ve been hearing a lot about you.  Nice to finally meet you!”

“And you!  I can’t believe we’ve never crossed paths before.”

“Maybe this is the start of somethin’, huh?”  Dean smiles.  “Hey, are you sure you’re _Cas’s_ sister?  You n’ Charlie have got a bit of a family resemblance goin’ on.”

“Oh, the hair, right?” Anna replies, flipping it nonchalantly.  “There was a mismatch of genes somewhere, definitely.”

“Man, I can’t imagine you as a redhead,” Dean says to Cas, smirking a little at the thought. 

“Don’t they have more fun?” he asks innocently.  Dean scoffs.

“Nah, that’s blondes.”

“You wish!” Anna beams.  From out of nowhere, Charlie pulls herself into the conversation by pulling Anna onto her arm.

“Just you wait, Dean,” she puts in, and the two giggle in tandem with each other.

“See?  Sisters!” Dean throws his hands up in the air to emphasize just how conclusive the evidence is.  Even Cas can’t deny it.

He isn’t expecting Anna to pull _him_ aside as everyone else makes their way to their assigned karaoke booth, unable to read the expression on her face as she does so.

“Uh, hi again,” Dean tries, not sure what to make of it.

“Thank you for taking care of my brother,” she says sincerely, getting straight to the point as her bright green gaze practically pierces into his soul.  It reminds him so much of Cas he nearly does a double-take. 

“Oh, uh.”

“Really.  I can’t even tell you how guilty I’ve been feeling. I only wanted him to have a good time, but he’s just been holing himself up in his room.” She huffs out a breath.  “But thanks to you, it seems like he’s finally getting to enjoy himself!”

“Glad I could help,” Dean smiles warmly.  “He’s a great guy.  Really knows his stuff.”

“And he has _great_ taste,” Anna smirks, winking not at all subtly before turning to catch up with their group.  Dean finds that he can only stand there, stunned into sudden petrification.

“… Okay,” he tells himself shortly, willing himself to start moving again.

Their booth is only _just_ big enough to fit everyone, dimly lit save for a few lasers spinning incongruously around the walls, and stinks of smoke to boot, but the seats are comfy and the atmosphere is jovial; more so as the drinks come piling in.  Charlie starts them up with a bright, if not slightly off-key rendition of ‘Walking on Sunshine’, which sets the mood nicely.  Her Japanese friends take the reigns for a while after that, belting out a mixture of sickly sweet Japanese pop and… Japanese rock music?  Dean raises an eyebrow.  Who woulda known?

When Dean’s finally feeling drunk enough to punch a song in, he falters.  Turns out there’s a _lot_ of choice.  He meanders through the English-language artists stored on the machine as Anna sings a quiet, but bell-like rendition of Blondie’s ‘Heart of Glass’.Squished up next to him (out of necessity, more than anything, Dean reasons), Cas looks over his shoulder.

“Having trouble?” he asks into his ear, startling him more than he’d like to admit.

“It’s an important decision, man!  People will _judge me_ for what I choose,” he replies quietly, only half-joking.  He pauses, glancing up.  “You haven’t chosen anything either,” he points out, definitely _not_ focusing on how damned close their faces are in this closed environment.

“If you’re feeling pressured, we could do a duet.  I wouldn’t mind.”

Dean swallows.  He knows Cas isn’t _trying_ to imply it, but ‘duets’ spring to mind images of those overly-romantic scenes in musicals where the two love-struck idiots sing their hearts out to declare their eternal devotion to one another.  Except now his treacherous mind is shoving _him and Cas_ into those very roles, where he’s freakin’ Romeo calling out to Juliet up on her – his - balcony.  Is there singing in Shakespeare?! He doesn’t think so, but his memory’s gone flying off the balcony with his sanity.  Christ.

He puts every effort into _not choking_.

“Dean?” Cas asks, frowning at the lack of response.

“I – right, yeah, I could go with that.  Do you know much classic rock?” Dean asks, dragging himself back for what feels like the thousandth time today.

“I know some Queen,” Cas replies contemplatively.  Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Queen, huh?”

“It’s funny.  I don’t think I’ve ever purposely bought one of their CDs, and yet I still seem to have a large number of them in my collection.”

“Well, okay.” Dean chuckles to himself, typing ‘Queen’ into the machine.  Wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he’s willing to compromise.  Besides, _everyone_ will sing along if it’s one of the classics, he thinks - and happily that’s exactly what happens when _We Will Rock You_ blares over the speakers.  Dean rocks the speaking parts, Cas joining in for ‘we will, we will rock you’, his baritone echoing loudly through the room, accompanying the clapping and stamping from everyone else.  It’s not entirely in tune, but it’s good enough.  Dean likes it.

He ends up having a hell of a lot of fun, actually, so much that he punches a few more songs into the growing list, including _Highway to Hell_ and, in a fit of drunken madness, _All Out of Love._   Everyone cheers, sings along, dances. 

It’s all going great until ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ comes on.

“Ah, fuck,” Dean mutters under his breath, visibly slumping in his seat.  Cas looks over in that questioning way he has.  Head tilts and stuff.  Whatever.  Dean clenches his eyes shut, trying to push past it.  But it fails.  Before his companion can say anything, Dean launches himself up.  “Gonna hit the head,” he says in way of an excuse, since it’s not entirely a lie.

Just his luck that someone would choose the song that Lisa had branded ‘theirs’, back when she still believed they had the ‘perfect relationship’ that warranted that sort of thing.  Even though Dean didn’t really believe in the concept as a whole, he had gone along with it, and yeah, it had writhed its way into his neural pathways to create sentimental connections after a while.  So sue him, he feels things sometimes.

There are a few chairs sat near the door to the restroom, so he sits himself down heavily in one, dragging his hands slowly across his face, elbows resting on his legs.  He just needs a minute and he’ll be fine.  The alcohol can’t be helping either, he reasons.  As a distraction, he takes his phone out and starts to scroll through the photos he’s been taking through the past week, and smiles despite himself – there are already a lot of great memories to sift through.  He laughs in particular when he sees that Charlie had, at some point, somehow snuck his phone out and taken a close-up selfie of her and Cas as a present for him to unwrap later.  Slowly, he starts to warm as thoughts of Cas seep back in through the cracks.

“Dean?”

Speak of the devil.  Shit, how long had he been gone?

“Oh, hey Cas.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure.  Just got.” He pauses for a split second too long.  “A headache.”  _Yeah, he’ll buy that_ , Dean grimaces inwardly.

“Are you sure?  You’ve been gone for nearly half an hour,” Cas reasons, all-too knowing.  Dean sighs and looks away for a moment, contemplating. 

“Shit, dude.  I dunno,” he tries eventually.  “I just - I feel like an asshole.”  He stares down at his now dark phone screen like he’s willing it to light up and give him _something_ ; hell, he’d even take a motivational piece of shit pop-up blaring at him to ‘get a life, you don’t deserve to feel this bad, stop, go sing some more classic fuckin’ rock and man up, goddamn.’

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Even if his cell isn’t playing ball, he _does_ have Castiel, and maybe that’s better.  Castiel, who’s wearing a damn Dad sweater that matches his sea fucking blue eyes; eyes which are currently zoned directly in on Dean like he’s trying to see into his soul or something.  Like he wants to heal him.  And damn if Dean doesn’t want to let him.

Dean scoffs, pocketing his phone.

“Normally, I’d say ‘hell no.’” In contradiction, he pats the chair beside him as an open invitation.  “But it’s your lucky day.”

Cas sits himself gently down next to Dean, their shoulders knocking together.  If Dean ignores that particular fact and instead leans into the touch with only a mere hint of subtlety, he puts it on the drink.

“I lived with this chick for a couple-a years,” he starts tentatively, staring down at the floor as he concentrates on the warmth of Cas’s arm pressing into his.  “Probably won’t come as a surprise to you that it was Lisa.”

“I recognise the name,” Cas agrees lightly, like he doesn’t want to intrude on Dean’s train of thought.

“Yeah.  Lisa and her kid, Ben, this awesome little dude.”  Dean smiles despite himself.  “He’s a lot like me.  Kinda thought he was mine at first.  Maybe that’s what spurred me into living with her.” He pauses for a second, unlocking his cell so he can browse through his gallery, past all the photos he’s taken in the last week until he eventually finds the photo he wants.  “That’s them, there.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, just pores over the photo almost reverently for a good twenty seconds.  Dean knows he isn’t putting the interest on just to appease him; Cas has this honest way of doing things that might seem fake coming from anyone else, but is so obviously genuine when it’s coming from _him._   When he nods, Dean grunts in acknowledgement and lies his phone down. 

“I guess I led her on.  She was in love with me.  The whole nine yards.  And I tried.  I really did.  But she just wasn’t.”  Dean pauses; feels Cas lean a little more into his side in encouragement.  “Wasn’t _it_ for me.  She was just.. comfort.”  He grimaces.  “Damn, that sounds.”

“Perfectly within your rights,” Cas says gently.  “You can’t force your feelings.”

“Sure, but I stuck at it.  Tried to make myself believe I could feel what she did.  But I just.. don’t.”  Dean shrugs hollowly, rubbing a hand over his face before continuing.  “I broke it off with her before coming over here.  I mean, it wasn’t like I broke up with her through text like some teenage douchebag, but I coulda handled it better.”  He clenches his teeth as the memory resurfaces unbidden.  “For Ben’s sake, at the very least.” 

There’s silence for a moment as Dean gathers his thoughts.  “.. Anyway, the song that came on when I left?  That was ‘our song’.  According to Lisa, y’know?  I promise I don’t normally have wig-outs over things as stupid as that, but.”

“It’s not stupid,” Cas reassures him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “Are you missing them?”

“Yeah, I – yeah.  But I don’t regret what I did.  It almost feels like a weight’s been lifted off my shoulders, which makes me feel worse,” he huffs out a laugh despite himself.  “God, she deserves so much better.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and the pause makes Dean look up and straight into his eyes.  The warm weight of his hand’s still present on his shoulder.  “Everyone gets scared.  It’s difficult to admit, but they do.  But you are a _good man._ It’s not hard to see.”

“You’ve known me for less than two weeks, dude,” Dean says weakly.

“That’s true, but if anything, it should tell you just how brightly your soul shines through.” Cas smiles.  “You’re so kind and loyal to those close to you.  I -,” he hesitates, contemplating his choice of words.  “I could understand why Lisa might have thought the way she did.”

“Cas -?”

“You should probably talk to her, if it’s affecting you this badly,” Cas powers on.  “If you feel comfortable doing it, of course.  Then you can decide for sure if this is what you truly want.”

“… Right.”  Dean nods, leaning back against the chair.  It prompts Cas to finally remove his hand, like he’d forgotten he’d left it lying on Dean’s shoulder at all.  Like it had simply belonged there.  “C’mon, bud, let’s get back in there,” he decides, getting up and clasping a quick hand to _Cas’s_ shoulder in return.

The rest of the evening passes without incident, and in fact sees Dean throwing himself into singing along with more fervour than before, to Charlie’s delight.  In the end _she’s_ the one who hands him the second microphone just as, yup, Taylor Swift starts drifting ominously through the speakers, but he’s given up caring.  He barely knows the tune _or_ the lyrics to ‘Shake It Off’, but he makes a damn good go at it, even getting up to drunken dance with her to make up for it.

By the time they make it out of the karaoke joint it’s way past midnight, but you could hardly tell with the neon still going strong and the streetlamps shining down in a passable imitation of sunlight.  Dean’s got one arm flung round Charlie’s shoulders and the other round Cas’s as they make their way outside, still glowing and pleasantly drunk from their evening of alcohol and camaraderie. 

“Whoo!  That was.. man.  That was fun,” Dean grins, tightening his hold on his friends briefly to emphasize his point.  His voice, which has gradually slipped into a slick southern drawl over the course of the night, breaks a little as he speaks – a side-effect of over exuberant singing for four hours.  He’ll probably be paying for it in the morning, but right now he couldn’t give a shit.  “Hey, y’know what, I’m gonna call Sammy, let him know how much fun we’re having.”  Without waiting for an answer, he relinquishes his hold on Charlie to pull his cell from his pocket and punch in Sam’s speed dial.  Cas only leans in closer.

“Sammy?!” Dean calls down the line.  “Shit, still the dial to- Sammy!” His eyes brighten visibly as his brother answers.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam answers, a little blearily.  “How’s things?”

“Things are _pretty damn great_ , man.  Hey, Charlie, say hi!”

“Hi Sam!” she calls from the side, twisting her head back to grin at Dean.

“She’s busy, sayin’ goodbye to all her Japanese friends we’ve been hanging out with,” Dean explains.  “But hey, Cas is here, look-,” he exclaims, pressing the phone towards Cas’s face as if Sam would actually be able to see him through the microphone.

“Uh, hello,” Cas tries, frowning as he tries to _find_ the microphone.  “Nice to, uh, meet you.”

“Yeah, you too,” Sam says, and Dean can hear the perplexed smile on his face as he laughs a little.  “What are you guys doing?  Isn’t it like 1 in the morning there?”

“We’ve been at karaoke for the past few hours,” Cas explains, and then suddenly the phone’s been whipped away, back to Dean.

“ _We’re motoriiin’! What’s your price for flight?!”_ Dean sings (or, well, shouts) down the line, bringing Cas with him as he tips over a little.

“Dean, dude, I get enough of that at home,” Sam retorts, but he’s laughing at his brother’s amicable state.  “Glad to hear you’re having fun, though.”

“Charlie’s taken us _all over,_ dude.  We saw some cats, took some stupid sparkly photos, ate, uuuh, _radon? Umen?_ I dunno, it’s all the frickin’ same.”

“ _Udon_ ,” Cas corrects helpfully.

“Yeah, that.  The man knows what he’s talking about.  Cas speaks Japanese, Sam, did I tell you that?  And like, fifty other languages.”

“Well, fifty is a little -,”

“You guys would probably have massive nerd-out sessions if you met.  In fact I guarantee it,” Dean keeps on.  Cas doesn’t need to defend himself; fifty languages is a _compliment_ and he should let it run free.

(Cas doesn’t think Dean’s _actually_ that drunk, despite all appearances.  He’s pretty sure some of this is just compensation for his minor break-down earlier.  He’s keeping an eye on him.)

“Sounds great, Dean.”  Were Dean in a more lucid state of mine he would have caught on to Sam talking down to him like one might a puppy.  “Did you say he spoke some Japanese?  Has he taught you any?”

“ _Sou desu!”_ Dean proclaims, his accent surprisingly improved with the drink.  “Oh shit, wait, Cas, you never told me how to say ‘dick’!  C’mon man.”

“ _O-chinchin_ ,” Cas replies airily, overpowered by Dean’s energy and exuberance.  What harm could it do?

“Wha – _what?!”_ Dean bursts out laughing, and then he’s bent over double, phone practically forgotten.  Cas gingerly takes it from his hand where it’s about to drop to the ground.

“Sam?”

“Uh, yeah.  Is he okay?”

“He imbibed a little too much, I think,” Cas replies truthfully.  Dean’s nearly on the floor now, (“ _O-chinchin… oh my god..”_ ) tears in his eyes.

“That much is obvious,” Sam agrees.  “Well I’ll let you deal with him.  It’s way too early here for this,” he says, but there’s a humorous lilt to his voice.  “Tell him to call me back when he’s not so occupied, will you Cas?”

“Of course.  Bye, Sam.”

“Hey – woah, uh, is Dean okay?” Charlie asks, coming up next to Cas.  It’s possible that Dean’s crying, a little bit.

“He just, uh.”  Cas hesitates.  “.. Yes.”

“I need to ask him a favor - think he’s in the right mood to listen?”

“You can certainly try," Cas says, and watches as Charlie approaches tentatively.

“Hey, Dean, uh,” she tries, poking him on the shoulder.  Miraculously he looks up, tears in his eyes.  “Glad you’re enjoying yourself!”

“Oh man, right, yeah, hi,” Dean says, clearly having lost all grip of the English language.  It’s a shame he doesn’t have enough Japanese in him as a back-up.  ‘That’s right’ and ‘penis’ hardly constitute a conversation, after all.

“I’ll just get right to it – I’ve missed the last train, and taxis are _super_ expensive.  Can I crash with you for the night?”

Dean’s finally calming down, gathering himself together and wiping his cheeks with his sleeves.   “Whew!” he breaths out, slinging an arm round Charlie’s shoulders – possibly because he’s being friendly, more likely because he needs a support beam and Charlie is readily available.  “Crash?  Yeah, sure man.  Bed’s big enough for fuckin’ _four_ people.”

And that’s how Dean, Charlie and Cas end up sprawled over Dean’s bed (which is actually more suited to, maybe, 2.5 people) watching crappy TV til 4 in the morning.  Even though Charlie holds her alcohol pretty damn well, she falls asleep on Dean’s shoulder an hour in, leaving Dean and Cas to mull over their night with the TV as a backing track.

“I’m working again tomorrow,” Dean says into the cavernous space of his room, like he’s contemplating everything he might miss out on whilst he’s doing the exact thing he came to this country for.  Cas blinks, taking a second to process what Dean’s said.

“Oh,” he says.  “Would you like me to leave?”

“No, man, that’s not what I’m saying.  I’m just letting you know.”  He pauses, contemplative.  “Although it might be more comfortable in your own bed -,”

“I’m fine here,” Cas cuts in, maybe a little too quickly.  He glances over to Dean to gauge his response, worried that he might have overstepped.  But Dean’s just looking down at the bed covers with a small smile.

“Well, okay,” he says quietly, warmly.

Between them, Charlie sighs contentedly in her sleep.

“You wanna exchange numbers?” Dean asks suddenly, reaching for his phone on the bedside table.  “It’d be, err, y’know, it’d be nice to have something to do during down-time,” he provides as an explanation.  It’s not great, as excuses go, but Cas is more than willing to play along.

“I can do that,” he agrees, though inwardly he wonders if Dean will really use his number.  He’s been messaging Sam, he knows that, but Sam and Dean are _brothers_ ; their bond is far more strengthened than Cas could ever hope to touch.  Still, he happily types in his number when Dean hands him his phone.  What harm could it do?

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean says warmly, this time smiling down at his phone screen.  It’s infectious – Cas finds himself smiling as well.  “Alright, alright, enough of that,” Dean says decidedly.  “Nap time.”

Cas wholeheartedly agrees, and it doesn’t take long for him to drift off once he’s settled himself under the covers, Dean the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes.

0o0o0o0

 

**_D: hey cas, how do u say ‘get the fuck on with it, i have food to be eating’_ **

Cas blinks down at the notification flashing up on his phone.  So Dean actually _is_ texting him.  He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised.  He quickly picks up his cell to type out a reply.

_C: I don’t think that’s wise._

_C: I suppose the shoot is going well?_

**_D: fine.  theyre just taking a millennia setting up each new shot.  Perfectionists or some shit_ **

**_D: would rather be enjoying the fruits of tokyo with u to be honest_ **

_C: I doubt you’d enjoy the activities I’m partaking in._

**_D: ‘partaking in’, wow man, this is txt messaging, u can leave ur verbose tendencies at the keyboard_ **

_C: sry, wld u prefer i tlk lyk this_

**_D: that might actually be worse_ **

**_D: forget i said anything u may ‘partake’ in as much crap as u want_ **

Cas smiles to himself, then remembers he’s in public and lifts his coffee to his mouth to hide it.  He’s still not entirely comfortable with being out in a foreign country by himself, but he’s getting there.  Right now he’s happy enough; he’s got a Grade A view from Starbuck’s giant, elevated windows of Shibuya’s famous Scramble Crossing.  He absently sips at his drink – may as well, whilst it’s in optimum position, as he watches another wave of humans (and the occasional dog) cross paths from all directions.  Organised chaos.  It’s beautiful in its own way.

His phone beeps again.

**_D: what are u doing anyway_ **

_C: Drinking coffee and people watching._

**_D: are u kidding me?  that sounds like the shit.  i could do with some coffee rght now_ **

**_D: im gonna get some coffee_ **

_C: Glad I could help._

Dean keeps on messaging him throughout the day, with photos of the meals he’s been given or comments on his co-workers.  Cas reciprocates with a selfie of himself and Shibuya’s famous Hachiko statue.  He’s never personally taken a selfie before, and just manages to figure out the logistics of it enough to get the bronze dog _and_ his face in frame.  He looks confused in the finished product, but he figures Dean will probably think it’s amusing enough to be worth the effort.

‘ _Lookin’ good’_ is all he gets in reply, which just ends up frustrating Cas because he has no idea whether Dean’s being sarcastic or serious or something else entirely without hearing the intended intonation.  It’s one of the many problems he has with modern technology.  The ‘thumbs up’ emoji Dean sends straight after does nothing to help him through his predicament, so as a neutral answer Cas sends an emoji of a happy-looking dog, to match with Hachiko.  

He finds, as the day goes on, that despite being in near constant contact with him though text messaging, he _misses_ Dean.  Misses his infectious energy, his occasional comment on some new facet of Japanese culture he’s just spotted, the casual touches they share every now and again.  It seems silly – they were together only hours ago, and yet. 

Cas isn’t 100% sure he wants to delve too deeply into _that_ train of thought.  He knows well enough where it would lead, and he’s not sure if he could face it.  Dean’s obviously going through some things, it’s not like he needs _another_ complication added into the mix.  Cas is a reasonable man.  He wouldn’t do that to another.

**_D: u wanna have a drink at the bar later?_ **

But texts like that do _nothing_ to help his predicament.

He sighs softly.

_C: I would like that._

00o0o0o0o

“Cas!  You ok?” Dean smiles broadly, unable to help himself when he sees his friend already sitting at the dimly lit bar, a half-full glass sat absently in his hand.  What can he say – it’s been a long day and he’s tired and achey, so it’s refreshing to see a friendly face for the first time in hours.  He can feel the itching urge to _hug_ his companion just under the surface, but damn, it’s been less than 24 hours, he can keep himself in check.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Cas smiles back, shifting a little as Dean slides into the seat next to him, their shoulders pressing comfortably together.  “You look happy to be back.”

“Today _dragged_ , man.  The food was pretty good, I guess.”  He shrugs.  “But your adventures in Tokyo sounded like a way better deal.”

“I don’t know if I’d called them ‘adventures’,” Cas muses, tilting his head softly as he stares into the distance, contemplating.  Dean snorts.

“Every day’s an adventure when you’re in a country as foreign to us as this one,” he says amicably.  “It’s not quite Indiana Jones though, I’ll give you that.”

“He never came up against photo booths and a pile of cats,” Cas nods.

“Oh, you’ve seen the films?” Dean sounds justifiably surprised.  Cas never struck him as all that pop culture savvy, like, at all.

“Uh, no,” Cas admits, ducking his head.  “But from what I know of them..”

“Damn.”  Dean grins to himself, taking a moment to order a drink for himself.  “We _really_ need to get you educated.” 

“Would there be time for that?  Do you have more shoots scheduled?” Cas asks, perfectly innocent, so he’s surprised to see Dean’s face fall just enough to catch.  “Dean?”

“Uh, yeah.  I mean, no, actually.  But, ah.”  He runs a hand across the back of his neck, not particularly eager to catch Cas’s line of sight.  He had hoped to slide easily into this line of conversation, not have it sneak up on him like this.  

“Is everything okay?”  Cas asks, sounding worried enough that Dean looks up.

“It’s just,” he hesitates briefly before powering on.  No time like the present, after all.  “Tomorrow’s my last full day in Tokyo.  That’s kinda why I wanted to get you today, to tell you.”

“Oh, I see,” Cas replies measuredly.  He reaches out to take a sip of his drink.  Dean feels the burning need to defend himself.

“I – it’s just gone so quick, y’know?  I barely even realised what day of the _week_ it is.”  He laughs weakly.  “But, uh, they reminded me today.  My plane’s in under 48 hours.  It was kind of a shock to the system, actually.”  He pauses, and when Cas doesn’t offer an immediate reply starts speaking again.  “Uh, how long have you guys got left here?”

“Only another 5 days,” Cas answers, shrugging.  “I think you’ve taught me enough that I can get by alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”  He smiles gently, and Dean feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders.  He feels like a dick, honestly.  Between the shoots and the daytrips and karaoke sessions, it had completely slipped his mind that he actually had a home to go to, and sooner rather than later.  That he had a life to sink back into, re-familiarise himself with the dips and curves of suburban American life.  It’s a complete 180 from the Dean who wanted to get in and out of Japan as quick as possible at the start of the trip, and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly why that is.

“Hey, but uh, I have tomorrow free.  If you’re not busy,” Dean tries awkwardly, and it’s worse than asking a girl out to prom at high school, he can’t seem to find the words.  He can’t help but place a kind of ridiculous amount of importance on Cas’s response.

“I think that’s within reason,” Cas nods, tilting his head over to catch Dean’s line of sight as he smiles softly, sea blue glinting in the lights overhanging the bar.  It’s the best thing Dean’s seen all damn day.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Dean blinks, looking up as he chews thoughtfully on his squid ball.  It’s an interesting question.  There are so many flavors rolling over his tongue that he’s never experienced before in his life, and his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet._

_“Gimme a good cheeseburger any day,” he replies eventually, grinning._

_“That’s what you’ve said about everything you’ve tried so far, Dean.”_

_“Yeah, but it’s true.”_

To be honest, by this point, Dean would probably shove anything Cas gave him to try into his mouth without a second thought.

Which – woah, not like that, jeez.

Or –

He looks down at his squid ball with a whole new lease on life, and nearly chokes.  He holds it back.  He’s cool.  He’s totally got this.

What he _means_ is that he trusts Cas – implicitly.  It feels stupid.  He’s known the guy for less than a month, and yet he feels like he would follow him to the ends of the earth, even if it meant delving into extreme culinary.  But hell, it’s true.  If it takes a damn _squid ball_ to make him realise that, then hey, they can’t be all that bad.

“Dean, you look like you’re having gas troubles,” Cas says, squinting at him like he’s worried that’s actually the case.  Dean reconsiders everything he just thought.

“Wh – nah man, I’m all good here.  Just.. thinkin’.”

“About anything in particular?”

Ain’t that the million dollar question.

“Uh.. global… culinary…” Dean answers slowly, frowning at himself even as he does.  “This is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Oh, I see.”  Cas nods. 

“I’m not what you might call an adventurous eater,” Dean adds, and then sticks his next damn squid ball in his mouth just to give him a good reason to shut the hell up. 

They’re eating under the giant shadow of Tokyo’s very own Eiffel Tower replica, better known as Tokyo Tower, painted red and white so it stands boldly out on the horizon.

“It’s a broadcasting tower,” Cas explains as they move into the main foyer, where it turns out there’s actually an _entire food hall_ , complete with a pizza joint.  Dean’s _so_ getting in on that when they come back down, since the entire reason they’re even _here_ is to scope out Tokyo from the top of its Tower.  Cas figured it’d make a good ‘last activity’ for Dean, and hey, it’s not like Dean had any better ideas, so to the Fake Eiffel Tower it was.

“Mhm,” Dean hums absently, more interested in scoping out his surroundings.  It’s pretty clear that they’ve wandered into another tourist trap, if the gift shops filled to the brim with the cutesy paraphernalia Dean’s becoming so used to seeing is anything to go by.  No, he won’t be tempted by overly-priced Tokyo Tower shaped biscuits, or keychains and plushies of Japanese TV mascots wearing Tokyo Tower themed clothing, or the fridge magnets, or… any of it.  The damn ticket price to get in and _up_ was high enough.

And once they’re up, well -  it’s a little unnerving, to tell the truth.  They’ve gone right to the very top of the spire when they could have just stopped at the middle and been done with it, but no, Dean was feeling like a baller and so now they’re swaying gently in the breeze in the tip of the Tower.  Or at least, that’s what it feels like. 

“It’s a perfectly sturdy structure Dean, don’t worry,” Cas says reassuringly, patting his right shoulder as he passes by.  Dean swallows what he hopes is surreptitiously.  Being scared of flights and heights shouldn’t necessarily go hand-in-hand but hell, when the ground is this far away it’s difficult not to feel a little jittery.

Still.  At least the view is good.

It’s a clear, sunny day in Tokyo’s Shibakoen district, so the view stretches off well into the horizon.  It’s funny – Dean expected it to look like the suburban metropolis it feels like from ground-level, with skyscrapers spanning into the horizon, but actually there’s a decent amount of greenery and the ocean is like, right there.  It’s a whole new perspective, literally and mentally. 

Dean leans his arms heavily onto the beams by the windows, staring out at the view before him until his vision starts to blur and he finds himself focusing more on what’s going on in his head.  It’s been a mad couple-a weeks, that’s for sure.  Soon enough his face is gonna be pasted up on Japanese buildings and buses and billboards, which is pretty cool, yeah, but that seems so.. insignificant, in the big scheme of things.  He came here, he did a job, big deal. 

It’s the little things.

The _okonomaya… makiya… okonamo…_

Dean frowns.

The _oko-_ whatever-the-shit, the neon, the otherworldly atmosphere of the shrine, the cats, the weird, sparkly photos, the karaoke, the late nights watching crappy Japanese TV.  _Those_ are the things that count.  _Those_ are the things Dean’s going to remember when he gets home.

Sea blue eyes and a Dad sweater and mussed up black hair. 

Yeah.

He catches that very same hair from the corner of his eye, and suddenly realises that Cas is standing next to him; probably has been for the past few minutes.  Dean knocks their shoulders together gently to acknowledge that yeah, he has actually realised Cas is there. Dude needs a damn bell or something.

“Are you looking forward to going back home?” Cas asks, and Dean has to blink himself out of his reverie to get his mind working enough to dredge up an answer.

“Sure.  It’ll be great to see Sammy, as much as he can never know that, and there’s these guys I hang out with at the Roadhouse ‘round the corner.  Stuff like that.  Getting back to work in a language I can actually understand.”  Dean laughs to himself.

“Do you think you’ll miss anything?” Cas asks, and Dean actually has to bodily turn ‘round and give Cas an eyebrow at that question.

“Are you really selling yourself that short?” he asks without pre-amble, but he’s grinning a little.  He’s not gonna stand for Cas putting himself down like that, seriously.

“I-,” Cas actually seems taken aback.  “That’s not really what I meant, but..” He’s actually turning red.  It’s adorable.

“I mean, okay, sure.  It’s been a wild ride.  This country is something else, man.  Just when you think you’ve seen it all, there’s porn playing in a store, or there’s some girl walking around with a doughnut in her hair, y’know?  It never gets boring.  But I wouldn’t have known jack _shit_ about all that if you hadn’t been there to show it to me.”

He slaps his hand down decisively on the beam, only to find that he’s found _Cas’s_ hand instead of metal.  He glances down, freezes, and then figures, hell.  What harm can it do.  He wraps his fingers around Cas’s hand and squeezes, like he meant to do it all along to emphasize his point. 

“So.  Y’know,” Dean finishes solidly, squeezing again briefly before letting go.  Don’t wanna have too much of a good thing, or whatever.

Neither of them talk for a while after that, but it’s okay – the atmosphere between them (or, well, the very minimal space between them) is calm and relaxed.  Before they head back down, Dean spins them both round to get a selfie of them and Tokyo.

Dean _absolutely_ gets in on that pizza before they leave.  He feels like he’s earned it.

0o0o0oo0o0

Things don’t end the way Dean would have wanted them to.  Not in the slightest.

The lead-up is pretty good, so at least there’s that.  He and Cas take a final trip to an _izakaya_ that evening and absolutely destroy a selection of everything they can stomach (which is a _hell of a lot,_ in Cas’s case), with enough alcohol to get them both pleasantly drunk.

“Hey, I never asked, what’s that fuckin… novel or whatever o’ yours about, anyway?” Dean asks halfway through their meal, chicken wing hanging idly from his hand. 

“I honestly thought you had forgotten,” Cas says, though not maliciously – he’s smiling, happy that Dean _didn’t_ forget.

“Nah man, I remember.  You’re some hot-shot author and you’re gonna write an epic about our time together in Japan, right?”

“We’ll see,” Cas nods thoughtfully.  “But, uh, my novel... novel series, in fact, focuses on the Apocalypse.”

“Dude.”  Dean bites into his chicken wing and nods, impressed.  “Heavy stuff.  I like it.”  He pauses.  “Are you one of those, like, ‘I gotta prepare for the inevitable end of the world’ type-a guys?”

“No,” Cas laughs.  “No, but I can see the merits in it.  I wouldn’t mind having a fallout shelter.  Just in case.”

“You better let me into your goddamn shelter.  Nuclear apocalypse, meteor apocalypse, fuckin’ zombie apocalypse?  I wanna be covered.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much about those.  It’s the biblical apocalypse I’d be most prepared for.  But of course, there would be a place for you.”

“Biblical, huh.  Angels and demons and all that shit?”  Dean asks.  Cas nods in clarification.  “Figures,” Dean snorts.  “Please tell me you’re not a self-insert.”

Cas laughs, shaking his head.  “No, I wouldn’t do that.  My brother Gabriel on the other hand… well, I didn’t have much choice using _his_ name in the book, considering he takes his name from an archangel.  I changed his personality enough that the only similarity _is_ the name, though.”

“Oh shit, there’s more of you?” Dean grins.  “Gabriel, huh?  What’s he like?”

“He tries to live life like it’s a non-stop party.  It can get a little embarrassing.”  Cas shrugs.  “But his heart’s in the right place.  From my perspective he’s one of my more tolerable siblings.  Although maybe that’s because I don’t see him all that much.”

Dean whistles, resting his cheek in his hand as he looks Cas up and down.  “Wow, Cas.  Tell it like it really is.”

“My family is…” Cas pauses, staring off somewhere behind Dean’s ear for a few seconds.  He actually starts to look a little pained, so Dean waves his hand at him to distract him from whatever inner thoughts are threatening to torment him.

“Don’t worry about it dude, I get it.  I love my family, but shit.  The stories I could tell.”  He takes a conveniently-timed swig of alcohol.  “Stuff for another time.  Hey, did you see that new Marvel trailer?”

So yeah.  That goes fine.  They get back to the Hyatt and they’re buzzing from the alcohol, and Dean wonders if maybe he should just fucking _go_ for it.  A lesser man than him would absolutely do it.  Cas’s hair is all ruffled up from the amount of times he’s run his hand through it over the course of the night, and his lips look fucking amazing, honestly, and his pupils are all blown out, but then.

Dean is a man with integrity.  He knows how to handle his drink, and he knows that taking advantage would not be a great way to leave things.  So he does the gentlemanly thing instead and hugs the absolute crap out of Cas in the elevator, making a performance of it really; squeezing Cas tightly to him, ruffling his hair, laughing into his shoulder.  It’s been a good night.

It’s been a good trip.

Even better when Cas wraps his arms around Dean in turn, and he’s not even trying to pretend that he’s pretending; he’s sinking into Dean’s shoulder like it’s his goddamn _pillow_ , one arm up around his shoulders and the other snug around his waist.  Dean doesn’t want it to end, but that’s the unfortunate nature of elevator journeys. 

When it’s Dean’s turn to get off, Cas mumbles a soft, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow morning?’ and when Dean nods an affirmative, reaches up the few inches he needs to kiss Dean softly on the cheek before letting Dean wander off down the corridor.

Dean sleeps.  _So_ well.

It’s the next morning that things fall apart.

He spends the first hour or so frantically running around his room after he drags himself awake and realises that, shit, he needs to pack _right now._ He shoves everything haphazardly into his suitcase and takes it on faith that it’ll zip closed, and then has to tear it apart again to get his toothbrush and deodorant and other morning essential shit he had thoughtlessly thrown in there underneath a heap of clothing.  He answers a few increasingly persistent calls from his handlers asking him where he is, they need to take group photos before his taxi leaves – yeah yeah, goddamn, give him a minute.  He slings on some jeans and an undershirt and a plaid shirt that he’s probably over-worn during his stay here but fuck it, it’s comfortable, and it’s not like he would have come out of the airplane squeaky clean in any case.

Every time he gets to calling Cas, he realises there’s something else he’s forgotten, or needs to take care of, so he ends up sending him a quick text and hopes to god he’s awake.

He doesn’t even want to know what he looks like when he finally makes it down to the lobby, where his handlers are a picture, wearing pristine suits and strained smiles.  He must look like a damn hobo next to them, especially since his eyes are darting left right and center, trying to find Cas.

“Mr.Winchester, we hope you have enjoyed your stay in Japan,” one of his handlers, a middle aged woman with perfect make-up and a perfect fake smile, addresses him, and holds up a pristinely wrapped gift for him to take.  Shit.  He should probably have something for them, too.  He smiles awkwardly.  “Please take this as a memento.”

“Thank you,” he says politely, taking it and storing it away, but his mind’s elsewhere.  “Uh, sorry, do you mind if I just, quickly -,” he motions vaguely over to the phones a few metres away, and barely even waits for a response before he makes his way over.  Who cares if he’s being impolite, he’ll be outta this country in a few hours, and this matters more.

He only gets the dial tone when he rings Cas’s room, but leaves a voicemail just in case.

“Uh, hey, so I’m down in the lobby.  Leaving real soon.  Sorry this is so.. I barely even woke up in time to pack, man.  I’d blame it on the hangover but that’s such a weak excuse.  Come down and say adios?”  He hangs up, rubs his hands down his face, and makes his way back over to his handlers.  They move everyone into position, making sure Dean’s front and centre, and start taking the final group photos.

There’s gonna be one where Dean looks like a gaping fish, because suddenly Cas is just.. there.  Right there, perfectly content to just watch, gentle smile apparent even from where Dean’s standing.  So that’s.  That’s good.

“Excuse me,” Dean stammers out, torn between not wanting to spend his last morning offending his handlers over and over again and seeing Cas.  It’s not really a choice.

“Look who turned up,” he grins as he reaches his friend. 

“I was just heading out, as it happens.  My timing couldn’t have been better.”

Dean can’t help himself – he wraps his arms around Cas, hugging him tightly, trying to convey so much with that one simple gesture.  He knows his handlers are watching, but hell, they can deal with a hug. 

“You’ve got my number, yeah?  I’ll text you my skype details when I get home,” Dean promises as they break away from each other.  Cas nods, and there’s this.. look in his eyes.  He looks determined.  Dean swallows, and out of the corner of his eye he can still see his handlers, and they ain’t looking so accommodating anymore.  He thinks one of them is actually _frowning._ Shit.

So when Cas starts to lean up, Dean fucking.  He –

He sticks out his hand, and something in him shatters.

Cas gives him this weird look, like he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening, but he’s stopped leaning in, which makes Dean feel a bit sick. Cas tentatively puts out his hand, and Dean shakes it, trying to convey with his eyes everything that he can’t bring himself to do for real.

“It.  It’s been awesome, Cas.  Thanks for everything.  See you on the other side?”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, and it’s not like Dean can’t see the frown that’s starting to form.  He clenches Cas’ hand between both of his like it’s a lifeline, and with a final smile, lets go. 

Cas nods, hesitates, and walks out of the lobby and into the streets of Tokyo.

0o0o0o0

 

Dean’s head is a mess.

He can’t believe he did that.

He’s made some bad mistakes in the past, but jesus _fucking_ christ.

He’s so, _so_ glad that Japanese taxi drivers don’t seem to be the talkative types, because he’s not sure he could bring himself to participate in small talk right now.  Instead, he’s staring out the window, but he’s not really looking – it just gives him something to idly focus on whilst his head feels like a small ship in the middle of a raging storm at sea.

He probably loves Castiel, he thinks to himself, and it’s hardly even a revelation.  Just something he’d known all along but never really thought to look at hard enough.  And now he has, just as he’s let him slip through his fingers because of, what?  Social anxiety?  Fuck.  He doesn’t even want to know what Cas is thinking.  He saw his face.  The confusion, maybe even betrayal.

Dean groans gently to himself, and slips a little further down into his seat.

But then the taxi stops for a second, traffic lights or maybe just traffic, Dean doesn’t know and also doesn’t really _care._

Except when he looks out the window, he sees a flash of black hair and a tan trenchcoat, and his mind fucking _stops._

“Shit.  Fuck, wait, _shit,_ stop here, right here, I don’t even care if we’re in the way, I just -,” Dean’s frantically grasping at his seatbelt, flinging it off of him whilst simultaneously trying to get the door open.  It swings out automatically just as soon as the taxi’s pulled over, dragging Dean’s arm with it.  “Thanks, I’ll – I’ll be back -,” he doesn’t waste energy on finishing the sentence, instead hauling himself out of the car like his life depends on it. 

In a way, it does.

Because that’s _Cas._   He couldn’t mistake him anywhere, even though he’s turned away from Dean, his trenchcoat fanning out behind him as he walks down the street.

In that second, he’s willing to believe in God and Angels and the possibility that maybe, in some other universe, Cas belongs somewhere among them and that he’s given Dean a second chance to fix what he fucked up.  In his delirium it’s practically the only thing that makes sense.  Crossing paths like this in a city like Tokyo?  That’s gotta be a billion to one.

“Cas!” Dean calls out desperately, unable to give a single shit about the stares he’s getting.  No response.  He tries again, picking up speed to reach him.  “Cas, hey, wait!”

Cas stops, hesitates, turns round.  “Dean?” His eyes widen in pure disbelief.

“Yeah, man, I-,” Dean breathes out, looking Cas up and down.  He reaches out, takes his shoulders in his hands.  Everything is sea blue and any attempt to finish his sentence gets swept away with it, so instead he lets pure instinct take over,  leaning in to finally, _finally_ seal his lips over Cas’s, gathering him up into his arms.  He clenches his eyes shut to it, bundling the material of the trenchcoat in his fingers, letting it slide over them like water.

Cas wastes no time opening his mouth to Dean, reaching one hand into his hair and placing the other on his neck, pressing himself bodily against Dean like it’s the only place he would ever want to be.  It’s a heady feeling, one that Dean almost can’t believe is real.  It feels like a dream, but no, that’s Cas’s tongue pressing his mouth open, his soft sigh as he moves one arm down around Dean’s waist. 

They part all too soon, but even then Dean doesn’t let Cas get too far as he rests his forehead on his, breathing in and out slowly.  If there’s a city making its way through the day around him, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs softly, and then is silent, like his name is enough to convey everything he so badly wants to.

“I fucked up,” Dean murmurs, tightening his hold. 

“It’s okay.  I forgive you,” Cas breathes out in reply, and Dean grins despite himself.

“I wish I didn’t have a plane to catch,” he whispers into Cas’s ear, and Cas nods in reply.  “But I swear I’ll call you the minute I get in.”  He pulls away, drinks in Cas’s expression, moves in to press another kiss to Cas’s lips.  “Make the most of your last few days here, okay?”

“Okay,” Cas agrees.  One more kiss.  They’re both beaming as they pull away.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Dean promises.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! We made it! The longest thing I've ever finished in my entire life! Thanks for coming on this ride with me, guys. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.
> 
> A few notes! I've made a 'cheat sheet' that you can find [here at my tumblr](http://kenobicomet.tumblr.com/post/140909610438/found-in-translation-cheat-sheet). It's got cultural notes and a list of all the Japanese terms and phrases used! If you wanna know more about something in the fic that isn't covered here, please ask away! 
> 
> I would never, ever have gotten this fic written without the wonderful [Nat.](http://autumnpsyche.tumblr.com) Thank you SO MUCH for the beta, and for the encouragement. Plus thank you to everyone who's shown enthusiasm for reading the finished product - you kept me going :'D
> 
> And of course this fic wouldn't have come about without the film Lost in Translation. It's a wonderful, wonderful film. Check it out if you haven't. :) 
> 
> A MILLION THANK YOU'S AND HUGS !!!


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